


All There in the Name

by HardTack (volatileSoloist)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, Bone Breaking, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Forced Voyeurism, M/M, Manhandling, Manipulation, Pre-Canon, Self-Doubt, Sensitive bones, Somnophilia, Soul Sex, Uninformed Consent, Video Game Mechanics, boneblossom, later on is genu-ine nonconsent, there will be no ecto dick here, things will progressively get worse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6524314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volatileSoloist/pseuds/HardTack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being bored for so long, Flowey comes up with a new plan that should make things more... interesting. Of course, it involves a little work, but his favorite toy, Papyrus, makes it all worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Brand New Lightbulb, Fresh Out of the Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _Yes,_ he thought, _this could be interesting. What better way to change things up than by doing something_ nice _for Papyrus?_ "
> 
> Flowey thinks up a new way to torment Papyrus; the real trick is making sure that Papyrus doesn't realize it's happening.

“Yes! That's it, Papyrus!” cried Undyne, wiping away the large blobs of tomato sauce scattered across her face. “I'd say this is your best dish yet!”

Papyrus grinned, tossing aside the splinter-like piece of uncooked spaghetti he'd pulled out of Undyne's scales. “Wowie! You really think so?”

The warrior flashed her jagged smile. “Uh, yeah? Your hard work has really paid off.”

Abandoning the barely-touched plate of pasta, she raised her hand for a high five. Once Papyrus's phalanges stopped stinging, he scratched at the back of his ankle with his opposite foot and demurred. “Undyne? Since I have finally mastered the time-honored skill that is cooking... perhaps we can now move on to warrior training? The Great Papyrus needs to be at peak condition if he is to join the Royal Guard!”

Papyrus just barely caught Undyne's momentary grimace, and decided he'd imagined it.

Undyne grinned again and punched him in the humerus. “All in good time, punk! Now that you've beaten spaghetti to a delicious pulp, I can introduce you to your next opponent: pizza! And trust me when I say that it won't be as easy.”

Papyrus blinked, and then smiled. “Of course, Undyne! I can hardly wait to learn.”

\---

The walk through Waterfall was always long, and depending on Papyrus's mood, it was either gorgeous or just plain eerie. Of course, he could've just asked the Riverperson for a ride; today, however, he decided a long walk would clear his skull.

The bright, neon blue glow of the crystals in the walls shone magnificently onto the petals of the echo flowers, which whispered quietly as Papyrus passed by.

_...make a wish..._

_...behind that rushing water..._

_...squeak..._

_...hoped with all your heart..._

_…I promise I won't laugh..._

“Hee, hee.”

Papyrus frowned and momentarily stopped. _They'd just said they wouldn't laugh,_ the tall skeleton thought sadly. However, as he walked forward again, he realized that the laugh he'd heard didn't possess the same reverb as the flowers nearby. Then, he had a second revelation: he recognized the voice.

“Behind you, silly!”

Papyrus whirled around, and immediately grinned. “Flowey! I didn't expect to run into you here. What brings you to Waterfall?”

The small, golden flower beamed back, and replied, “Howdy, Papyrus; I was looking for you, actually! It's been so long since we've been able to have a nice chat,” he finished with a pout.

“Well, now's a great time for it! We can talk while we walk.”

Despite not having legs to walk with, Flowey always seemed capable of popping up in different locations; he'd originally met him deep in the Snowdin woods, of all places for a flower to grow!

The flower shrugged its petals, and as Papyrus began to stride forward, a vine gently latched around his foot. “In that case, mind giving me a boost? I can't talk while I'm moving, Papyrus.”

“Oh,” the skeleton replied, hesitating only for a moment, “Of course, but wouldn't uprooting you cause you harm?”

Flowey rolled his eyes. “Oh, Papyrus, don't worry about me. I'm much stronger than your average plant!” And with that, the vine around Papyrus's leg lifted up to wrap around his arm. Coil after coil of plant matter looped around until the flower was comfortably perched there. Oddly enough, he didn't appear to have any roots.

“Thanks again, friend. Were you coming from Undyne's tonight?”

Papyrus nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! She said that I've officially mastered the art of cooking spaghetti. She's such a great teacher!”

\---

Flowey smiled and nodded as Papyrus carried on about his evening; in truth, however, the flower's mind was elsewhere. He didn't really care about whatever recipe he'd been learning, or was going to learn. He'd already had this conversation more times than he could count.

As they walked in the florescent light of the crystals in the ceiling and the rivers trickling by, Flowey pondered about change, and what he could do to make things more interesting. He focused back on the skeleton as he noticed a lapse in the normally ceaseless chatter.

“You seem distracted, Flowey. Is something the matter?”

Papyrus (being the lovably naïve fool that he was) was always so concerned with how others were feeling. It was one thing that never changed about him, no matter what the plant monster did to him. It was almost cute! _How far would he go to make a friend happy?_ The flower wondered. All of a sudden, he got a fantastically horrible idea. Flowey pouted, seemingly unwilling to discuss his 'concerns', before he burst out, “I wasn't going to say anything. I don't want to ruin your good mood!”

Papyrus's pace slowed to a stop. “You can tell me what's wrong, Flowey. I'm your friend!”

The golden flower pretended to hesitate once more, before acquiescing. “It's just that I'm worried for you, Papyrus. Didn't Undyne say she would teach you to be a warrior once you finished your cooking lessons?”

Papyrus quirked an eyebrow—it always amazed Flowey how expressive a face made solely of bone could be; it was much more malleable than it looked—in confusion before letting out a small laugh. “I'm not done yet! Now she says that she wants to teach me how to make pizza, and that it'll be--”

“Papyrus, it seems like she might just be stalling,” Flowey stated, despite saying it more as a question.

Papyrus frowned, but only for a moment. “Stalling? What would Undyne have to gain by _not_ accepting me, the Great Papyrus, into the Royal Guard?”

Flowey winced sympathetically. “I know, right? The only thing you lack is the actual training. But you two are _friends,_ right?” Flowey paused, just to hint at possible doubts. “If she really wanted to help you get in, why would she wait to teach you? Why is she putting this off?”

The tall skeleton blinked, before shuffling uneasily and stammering, “W-well, I'm sure she must have her reasons! A kitchen can be just as great a challenge as the battlefield; it tests patience, persistence, and... punching, of course!”

However confident he tried to sound, Flowey was able to detect a small amount self-doubt, and smiled. “I'm sure you're right, Papyrus. There can't be any way someone would think you're weak, or not tough enough to survive on the battlefield.”

Papyrus scratched the back of his skull, frowning momentarily. “Yes, of course not! For all I know, she might just also be busy with other Royal Guard-ly duties!”

He reached down and patted the vines on his arm. Flowey, though mildly annoyed, was always good at guarding his reactions, and decided to forgive this extra, unnecessary contact. Papyrus continued, “I do thank you for your concern, though; wowie, am I glad to have a friend like you!”

Flowey flashed a grin. “I'm only looking out for you Papyrus! It hurts me to think that anyone _wouldn't_ want to do right by you.”

Flowey only had the beginnings of his idea, and where it could go. But it began with planting seeds of doubt in Papyrus's mind, and this was as good a start as any. Papyrus was so sure that Flowey was his friend; in some ways, Flowey mused, it was good that he was unable to remember all those various timelines in which he had beaten the skeleton into dust, or killed everyone he loved. He still offered his friendship again and again, so sure that everyone would have his best interests at heart.

Poor, innocent Papyrus. He was by far Flowey's favorite to toy with; with all the power in the world, he could do anything to him, and by Papyrus's very nature, he was always met with acceptance, forgiveness, or extra chances. Even moments from death, Papyrus could not be brought to rage, even if the lives of his friends depended on it (and it had, more than once). He would always believe that Flowey could be good, even as the skeleton drowned in despair. He was just so much _fun_ to hurt!

_Yes,_ he thought, _this could be interesting. What better way to change things up than by doing something_ nice _for Papyrus?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first smutfic is going to be multi-chaptered... hopefully that isn't too ambitious. Stick around, folks. Potentially disturbing times are ahead.


	2. It'll Be Melting Like Nice Cream in the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flowey exploits Papyrus's cheery perspective, Papyrus gets huffy, and Sans begins to notice some small changes.

There were endless ways a person could take advantage of Papyrus's optimism and earnest belief in others; Flowey was truly surprised more monsters _didn't._ He decided the best way to begin would be to bring those that did to Papyrus's attention.

It would come in small increments, first.

They were sitting in the snowy, wooded area in between Snowdin and the Ruins. Flowey and Papyrus were nestled on the side of a hill sloping away from the main trail, so that no one would wander by and notice the small flower monster—Flowey would always insist that Papyrus tell no one of his existence. Papyrus had brought some Nice Creams for the occasion. Flowey didn't need to eat; once, he might have thought the notion, as ridiculous as it was, had its own, Papyrus-y charm. Now it was just utterly predictable.

Fiddling with the edges of the wrapper to open it, he caught Papyrus' attention and smiled at the skeleton. “Golly, it sure was great of you to bring these. That's the nicest thing anyone's done for me in a while. You make a good friend!”

Papyrus beamed and swelled up with pride; Flowey recognized that he was one of Papyrus's only “friends”, and he knew a little ego stroking never hurt when it came to the skeleton monster. Now, though, it was time to puncture a hole in it. It took very little to make the ship sink, so to speak.

“Thank you, Flowey! I thought it would be a good way to show how great a friend I, the Great Papyrus, enjoy being to you.”

Flowey briefly had the notion of eating the Nice Cream for Papyrus's sake, but he quickly abandoned it. Now wasn't the time for niceties. He'd watched Papyrus on his way here; he knew what to say, what to do. He instead raised the packet up a little with a vine and said, “You know, I sure do appreciate it. You do so many great things, Papyrus. I wish I could pay you back for this! How much did it cost you?”

Papyrus chortled. “Worry not, friend! I would never ask you to pay for a gift. And besides, they were free! The Nice Cream Bunny is very... well, nice to me! He always gives me a discount, or just _gives_ them to me.”

Flowey grinned. “Awww. That's pretty cute. He does that sometimes for the other kids in town too, right?”

Papyrus rolled his eyes. “You say that as though _I'm_ a kid! I'm sure it is just one of the perks of being as great a sentry as me!”

“So then he does that for the other sentries, too?” Flowey continued to prod. “Maybe _I_ should be a sentry, if it means I'd get free Nice Creams!”

Papyrus shook his head. “No, Flowey, I don't think he does. I'd be thrilled to have you as a fellow sentry, though! Even if there's no free ice cream, I'm sure being able to spend more time with the Great Papyrus would be consolation enough.” He jumped up into what Flowey supposed was a heroic pose. There was even a coincidental breeze to make his scarf flutter like a cape.

Flowey resisted the urge to gag sarcastically. Instead, he continued smiling in his usual saccharine manner, if with a slightly cutting edge. “You know, Papyrus, not that there's anything wrong with getting free Nice Creams, but doesn't the fact that people treat you like a kid offend you?”

Papyrus blanched a little, and turned to Flowey. “I'm not a kid! I'm even bigger than Sans, and he's older than me. I've always been the big one.” It _was_ true. Papyrus had been thirteen when Flowey first met him, and he'd been the taller of the two skeleton brothers even then. Flowey wondered if he'd _ever_ been small; the skeletons didn't seem to actually grow, which made a lot of sense when he thought about it.

Flowey pushed aside those thoughts; they were getting in the way of business. “Think about it, Papyrus! The Nice Cream Bunny gives you free or discounted Nice Creams, the bunny monster from the inn always gives you monster candy when you stop by, and your brother, he still reads you bedtime stories. Wow, Papyrus, even your brother treats you like a kid!”

The tall skeleton frowned deeply. “N-no, I know they're just being nice! I'm not a kid,” he said petulantly, stamping his foot like a child about to throw a tantrum. “People just respect me for all my hard work!”

“I know you're not a kid,” he crooned placatingly. “The Great Papyrus would never act like a kid. They can be so silly and dramatic, and they spend all their time on games. You're nothing like them at all!”

Papyrus remained silent. Flowey continued, “And of course, you do take such good care of the town. So good, in fact, that there's nothing to so much as threaten it! Everything dangerous must stay far away out of fear of crossing you.”

“Well, I don't want anyone to be afraid of me! Is my height that intimidating?” Papyrus broke a small, worried smile.

“Of course not, friend! After all, it doesn't seem to matter to the people in town how tall you are.” Before Papyrus could interrupt, Flowey held out his untouched Nice Cream to Papyrus. “Here, friend. It sounds like you need a pick-me-up more than I do.”

Papyrus shook his head, “No, Flowey, you don't have to do that for me.”

The flower narrowed his eyes briefly before grinning again. “Don't be silly, Papyrus! Go on, I insist.” The skeleton reached out, but paused, glancing searchingly at his friend. 

“Take it.”

The skeleton finally grabbed the packet, but gave the wrapper back to Flowey. “At least keep the message! You deserve it for being a nice friend.”

Flowey grinned, happy enough that Papyrus had done as he said that he took it, opening it up. The message inside showed a smiling face and bore the words: _Someone really cares about you!_

Flowey read it again, rolled his eyes, and tossed it aside. _Yeah, right._ Papyrus didn't count, since he gave his kindness out so freely. _Let's see how long he cares once I really get started._

\---

Papyrus trotted back into Snowdin. It was starting to get a little late in the day, and he needed to be home in time in order to make some spaghetti for Sans and himself. _What would he do without a cool guy like me taking care of him?_ The younger brother thought fondly.

As he passed by the inn, the door opened, and the bunny who ran it stepped outside to greet him. “How are you Papyrus? Goodness, how long have you been outside? I'm sure you're chilled to the bone!”

Papyrus groaned, “Not you, too!”

The bunny laughed, her buck teeth showing as she did. “I'm just teasing. Come inside for a few minutes and chat! I'll even let you have a piece of candy.”

With that, Papyrus stiffened. Skeletons really couldn't feel temperature all that much, but he suddenly felt cold, remembering what Flowey had said to him earlier. He shook his head and hurriedly said, “Sorry, but I have to be going home now! Sans is so lazy, he would be stuck eating gross, greasy junk food if it didn't have such a responsible, _adult-like_ brother to help him!”

Papyrus strode off, leaving the monster behind him staring after him bemusedly. _Where did that come from?_

\---

Sans happened to be snoozing on the couch when Papyrus tromped (well, he always walked around loudly, so it could hardly be called tromping anymore) into the house. Used to the noise, the intrusion did not rouse him.

“Sans! Get up, you lazybones! I'm going to make dinner, and you can't eat it if you're asleep!” The taller brother shook Sans's shoulder until the shorter one grumbled and dragged his eyelids open.

“C'mon, Pap, just a few more minutes... dinner isn't even gonna be ready for, like, half an hour...” He lapsed back into snoring, and Papyrus rolled his eyes in exasperation. He instead headed for the kitchen. One of them had to be the adult!

\---

Once Sans had managed to clean the spaghetti off of his plate (Papyrus was improving, just... very slowly), he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head. “Good feed, Papyrus. Keep at that spaghetti, and you'll eventually be a bone-afide chef!” He closed his eyes, a peaceful smile on his face.

The tall brother groaned and stood to collect the plates. “Don't you fall asleep again! It's your turn to do the dishes! You can't just shirk the call of duty as if... as if you were just a child!” Under his breath, he grumbled, “And people treat _me_ like _I'm_ the kid.”

Sans heard him anyway, and slowly sat up with vague concern in his eye sockets. “Who's treating you like a kid?”

Papyrus gestured frustratedly, as if either swatting away a large cloud of flies or indicating a large group of people. “Everyone, apparently! There are people in town who act as though I'm one of the local teenagers. I'm almost twenty!” He was waxing petulant again.

Sans frowned. “That ain't right, bro. You're the most responsible guy I know! You're _way_ more mature than I am, at any rate. Look at you, already going with the dishes and everything while I'm just sitting here, relaxing.”

“Oho, not for long,” Papyrus said in a mock-threatening voice, before plucking Sans up with his free hand and securing him under his arm like one would a barrel—Sans went comfortably limp, it was easier to just go with it—before carrying him into the kitchen. Papyrus stuck the dishes in the sink and plopped Sans down in front of the basin. The older skeleton knew his brother was still upset; Papyrus wasn't entirely bad at hiding his emotions, but he had plenty of tells. His steps had just a little more stomp to them, and he moved a bit more stiffly, like a robot.

“Look, Pap, I promise you that you don't act like a kid. If people treat you that way, it's their problem, not yours.” He glanced at the clock on the wall and slouched a little. “Say, it's getting late, bro. Once you're done with these dishes, head upstairs and I'll read you your bedtime story. You want 'Fluffy Bunny' again?”

Papyrus frowned. “Oh no, nice try. You're staying here to do the dishes, and I...” Papyrus wilted briefly before straightening up, “I will just go to bed! I'm tired, and grown-ups do not need bedtime stories. So thank you, and good night, dear brother!”

Papyrus hurried upstairs and closed the door behind him, just a hair too loudly. Sans stayed in the kitchen, his concern now a little more than vague. Papyrus lay awake in bed for a little while longer, regretting rejecting Sans's offer but too proud to change his mind. If being an adult meant losing some regular comforts, then Papyrus could bear it.

\---

_I know he really wants people to take him seriously,_ Sans thought as he slogged through the pile of dishes in the sink, _and I didn't lie. He's more responsible than I am. But we were both young when we got here, and people still see him as that carefree, excited kid._ He paused to reflect, and sighed guiltily. _I guess I still do, too._

Sans finished the dishes and crept up the stairs to Papyrus' door. He cracked it open, saw his brother's still body, and whispered, “G'night, bro.” Shutting the door again, he walked into his room, turned out the lights, and sat on the edge of his bed. He waited just a minute longer before taking a shortcut outside of the house. He stuck his hands in his pockets and made his way over to Grillby's. He was long overdue for a drink.

\---

Flowey watched Sans trek through the quickly-falling snow from behind a snow poff. As the skeleton passed through the door of that awful dive, he paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder as though he could sense someone staring at him. Flowey was already gone; he knew what Sans was going to do there—he went almost every night—and, more importantly, he knew what the next thing to bring to Papyrus' attention was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite line is: "I'm not a kid,” he said petulantly, stamping his foot like a child about to throw a tantrum.
> 
> I can only seem to write three-page chapters. Are these too short? I can try to write them a little longer if they are; I just don't want it to seem forced. I'm trying to get the most out of my random streak of motivation while it lasts.
> 
> You'll have to wait a few more chapters before anything explicit happens, sorry.


	3. Hadde I Than Be Dronken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans goes out for his nightly indulgence, unaware of a brewing storm.
> 
> Title is a line from _The Seven Wise Masters_ , author unknown.

Approximately a week had passed since the first incident Papyrus mentioned, and according to him, things were getting worse. Sans was, due to vicarious stress, in need of a drink.

As Sans trekked over to Grillby’s, he reflected that he really was, in some ways, more of a teenager than Papyrus. He certainly felt like one, sneaking over to a bar in the middle of the night while the responsible figure slept. He felt momentary guilt, and rubbed a hand over his left eye socket, which was beginning to ache again. _It’ll only hurt for a short period of time following the procedure,_ **he** had said. Sans snorted to himself. _As if._

He pushed the door of the restaurant open—even as a skeleton, he could feel the warm, grease-scented air flooding out, providing some relief from the perpetual Snowdin chill. Just as he was about to walk in, however, a quick flash of panic gripped him, and he turned to look behind him.

No one there.

He could have sworn someone he’d felt someone watching him. Uneasily, Sans turned back around and entered the establishment. It must have just been his paranoia getting the better of him. Papyrus had no way of knowing he was here. He was friends with enough people in the bar that he knew none of them would rat him out. Sans wasn’t proud of the secrecy, but it was necessary. Papyrus would never be able to understand.

He walked into the establishment and was instantly greeted by all the regulars. He had been one of them for so long, and they all had a comforting sort of inebriated camaraderie. When he came here, sometimes his permanent smile would actually reach his eyes.

He strolled up to the bar and took his usual seat on one of the stools. Sans was truly grateful for this place, and everyone’s discretion. Drinking, as shameful a habit as it was, was one of the few things that kept him afloat—so to speak—and that could allow him to escape from his past, as well as his ever-present, eerie sense of déjà vu.

He realized that he’d zoned out as a significant increase in temperature indicated the barman, Grillby, was in front of him and waiting for his order. Sans smiled with his eyes. “Heya, Grillbz. Sorry, I was just lost in my _hots._ ”

Grillby emitted a crackling noise, like a log in a fire collapsing, but Sans knew it was the way Grillby laughed. He must have heard all of Sans’s fire-related puns by now, but he still laughed. It truly warmed the skeleton's metaphorical heart.

“I’ll have the usual, please. Just put it on my tab.” Sans got both a reproachful look and a couple glasses of amber liquid, startlingly cool in comparison to the hot air in the bar. He downed the first in one gulp, and began nursing the second. Grillby refilled the empty glass as he did so. Gradually, the pain in his eye went away. He felt more relaxed, and he let out a contented sigh as he finished the second drink.

“Thanks, Grillbz. ‘Preciate it a lot.” Grillby refilled his drink again, laid a comforting hand on Sans’s shoulder, and then disappeared back into the small kitchen behind the bar.

Sans’s remarkably poor health made it easy for him to get smashed after only a few drinks, and Sans was already a little past tipsy. By the third or fourth drink, he’d be ready to stumble home—he would never take a shortcut while drunk; he’d learned his lesson after almost teleporting into one of the Hotland lava pits—trip his way up the stairs, and collapse onto his bed to sleep his impending hangover off, which generally meant sleeping into the afternoon. He was “lazy”, so sue him.

The red bird beside him, Dinali, tapped him on the shoulder as he finished his third drink, and he swayed in her direction. “Heya, Sans. Tough night? You don’t usually make it to your fourth round.”

Sans chuckled reflexively and took a sip of said drink, quieting down a little. He thought for a moment, before responding, “Nah, it’s just the usual stuff.”

He was met with quiet skepticism, and he hunched over a little, rubbing his forehead wearily. “Paps was a little upset earlier. Said he felt like the people here treated him like a kid.”

“Sans, he _acts_ like a kid. You know that.”

Sans grumbled into his glass. “I just don’t like to see him upset. It wouldn’t kill anyone to treat him with respect.”

The bird cocked an eyebrow. “Some talk from the guy who keeps abusing his trust by sneaking out and drinking himself unconscious. You know, even though you told him you’d quit.”

Sans bristled, then slumped onto the countertop. “He doesn’t need to know about this. He got upset enough the first time he found out. I swear to god, if any of you tell him--”

“Relax, pint-size.”

Sans sighed. “I’ll buy you a drink if it means you’ll leave me _a-bone._ ”

Dinali snorted— _How do you snort with a beak?_ Sans wondered—and stood, wobbling a little. She shook her head. “Nah, I’ve already had my few. I’m heading home. You should, too, you know.”

Sans raised his hand in acknowledgement, and soon, he was alone again. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was somehow already one in the morning; she was right, it was getting late. Sans finished his drink, and about near fell off the stool getting down. He walked out of the bar, hurrying home as quickly as he could to escape what of the cold he could feel. Sans fished his house key out of his pocket, clicking and turning the lock as quietly as he could. In his drunken weariness, he hadn’t noticed that some of the lights inside the living room were on.

\---

Snowdin was generally quiet at night, most of the activity confined to the bar or any sentries on patrol. Around midnight, there had been a small disturbance at the skeletons’ home. 

\---

Flowey snaked up the side of the house, wrapping his stalk around one of the gutter pipes for support. If he’d had hands, he would’ve rubbed them together in glee. Over the past couple of meetings with Papyrus, the flower had continued to prod at bounds of his optimism.

“Doesn’t it bother you that the dog sentries look at you like that? I’d be scared if it were me!” Papyrus would argue that the dogs meant him no harm, it was just in their nature. But Flowey could tell he was still unnerved.

“Don’t you hate how the teenagers in town keep messing up your puzzles?” This particular one happened to be a total lie; Flowey had found at least a small measure of entertainment in breaking them to catch a glimpse of the look on Papyrus’s face when he found their elements scattered or destroyed.

He’d put lots of time and effort into making Papyrus less trusting of those around him. Really, he was doing the skeleton a favor by making him aware of all the people against him in this town. _I’m such a good friend!_

He peeked through the window of Papyrus’s room. From where he was, he could just barely see the outline of the skeleton in his bed, fast asleep.

_Now,_ he thought, _it’s time to pull out the big guns._

\---

Papyrus had been fast asleep when the sound of something hitting his window woke him up. He jolted awake, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure what had roused him. Then he heard a thudding noise, like a sort of knock, just outside his window. He turned to look, and there, grinning at him, was Flowey.

The tall skeleton scrambled out of bed, wondering if he was dreaming. _How did Flowey get all the way up to the second floor window?_ He walked over to the desk, leaned over his computer monitor, and pushed the window up. Flowey stuck his head inside, and gave his usual, “Howdy!”

Papyrus would, of course, be glad to see his friend any time of the day, but he was tired and still affected by the upsetting revelations he’d been having recently. He rubbed at his eye sockets and yawned, “Hello, Flowey. What time is it?”

The flower bobbed in approximation of a shrug. “Maybe a little past midnight? I just thought I’d pop by, ask how you and Sans are doing!”

Papyrus blinked confusedly. “Fine, I suppose? I am, of course, a little sleepy. Sans is sleeping too, so he’s probably as happy as he knows how to be.”

Flowey’s visage changed into one of concern. “Are you positive about that, Papyrus?”

“...Huh? What do you mean?” Papyrus asked, anxiety slowly entering his voice.

“I mean,” Flowey said, his tone one of patronizing forbearance, “that I think you should go check on him. Just a hunch.”

At that, Papyrus’s tiredness fell away. Without another word, he exited his room and walked briskly over to Sans’s door. He knocked as quietly as he could manage, whispering a soft, “Sans,” to try and see if his brother was still awake. When he heard no response, he eased the door open a crack.

The room was empty.

Papyrus stood there, stunned, for a while, before he raced back out into the hall. “Sans?” he called out, hoping his brother had just fallen asleep on the couch after doing the dishes. When he heard no response, he ran down the stairs. The sofa was unoccupied, and the living room and kitchen were empty.

Papyrus ran back upstairs, where Flowey was waiting for him.

“Flowey,” the skeleton said, clearly distressed, “Did you know about this?”

The flower hummed in accord, and leaned forward conspiratorially. “I know where he is, but are you sure _you_ want to know?”

Papyrus nodded frantically. “Please, if you know where he is, then take me there!” He was filled with worry, various scenarios of all the horrible things that could happen to his frail brother racing through his skull.

Flowey looked at him gravely. “Get dressed and meet me outside. I’ll show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing, for the first and likely last time, Dinali, the red bird at the bar. I made her kind of a jerk, but she's kind of like that in canon too—remember when she admits that she'd just been making up what Grillby said? Rude.
> 
> For the sake of plot advancement, I'm not going include Papyrus seeing Sans at the bar unless you want me to (let me know if you do).
> 
> I wasn't too certain about this chapter—specifically, Sans's characterization—but I'll have to make do; I don't want you to have to wait too long for updates.
> 
> Rising action, hurray! We'll arrive at our destination in a few more chapters. Fasten your seat belts.


	4. And in the Salt Flod Sonkyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The storm arrives, and for one flower, that couldn't be more perfect. The action is soon to come to a head.
> 
> Title is a line from _The Seven Wise Masters_ , author unknown.

Sans pushed open the front door to his house, before shutting it as quietly as he could behind him—it could be deafeningly loud, if you closed it hard enough. He moved with the experience of someone who was skilled in sneaking around; after all his late-night expeditions, Sans was, in fact, an expert.

He was halfway to the stairs when it finally hit him that the TV was on. It displayed nothing but static, yet did well to highlight the stark contrast between it and the silhouette of a skeletal head. Sans’s heart would’ve dropped into his stomach if he’d had either. What was Papyrus doing awake? He had to have heard him come in!

But with no movement from his brother, he continued silently toward the stairs. This time, he stopped due to an odd sound he realized was the frustrated grinding of teeth. Then, Papyrus spoke. “I thought I’d give you a chance to approach me yourself. I see now that I expected too much.”

His brother stood and turned off the TV, then walked over to the wall and flipped the lightswitch, the light momentarily blinding him. Once he recovered, Sans dared to look at his brother. He could finally see the expression on Papyrus’s face.

He saw anger, hurt, and worst of all, _disappointment._

“Sans,” Papyrus said quietly— _Why is he so quiet, he’s never this quiet, oh god he’s going to kill me_ —”How long has this been going on?” He crossed his arms, the tips of his fingers tapping against his forearms, producing a sound unnervingly similar to a ticking clock.

Sans looked down and fidgeted. He just couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes. “It… it never really stopped.” He hated how slurred his voice sounded. He was too drunk to deal with this. He wanted to teleport out of here, and to hell with it if he took a shortcut straight into a Hotland lava pit; it was better than the burning shame he felt at that moment.

“I see,” Papyrus said. He ground his teeth again, as though the action could stop up whatever was coming to a boil in his skull.

“So you gave me your solemn oath, and then you _lied to me._ ” Papyrus seemed to give up any attempt at holding in his anger. He began pacing back and forth. “Sans, how could you do this? I care about you, but when I saw that there wasn’t much I could do to help you with this besides supporting you, I _trusted_ you to take care of the problem!”

“C’mon, Papyrus, it’s not like that—”

“Yes, Sans, it is exactly like that! You _lied_ to me, not once, not twice, but repeatedly! You told me you’d stop, but instead you went straight on to just… just doing it behind my back! This is… this is not what I wanted for you.” He finished morosely.

Sans glowered. “So, it’s all about what you want.”

Papyrus stopped, seemingly frozen. Sans glanced up, bitterness welling up in his eye sockets. Then, he shouted out, “What about what _I_ want, Papyrus?”

Papyrus started to say something, and stopped. Sans fidgeted uncomfortably, realizing that he had, in fact, just screamed at his brother.

“What do you want, Sans? Do you _not_ want me to help you?” Papyrus looked hurt again, and Sans wanted to stop, but he couldn’t contain the emotions that suddenly came pouring out of him, drudged out by the alcohol in his system.

“Yes! I don’t want you to help me, because you can’t! And you’ll try, and you’ll try, and when it doesn’t work, you’ll blame yourself.” Sans spoke with the experience of one who’d seen such a thing happen all too often; Papyrus seemed to pick up on it, but not know what to do about it.

“You always try, and just… nothing happens. You don’t even remember why I’m like this!” Sans began to choke up. “You don’t know what I’m going through, what _we_ —you don’t know what I’ve been through.”

Papyrus looked thoroughly confused. “What are you talking about?”

Sans pointed an accusing finger at him and bit out, “Exactly! Because you don’t remember, so don’t bother. It’s useless, and… all this, it’s just… pointless.”

“So tell me, then!” Papyrus quieted down. “Tell me what happened to you.”

He walked closer to Sans, extending his arms. Sans shook his head and stepped away, seemingly folding in on himself. “No,” he said quietly. “These are my problems. I won’t burden you with them.” Almost to himself, he muttered, “You don’t deserve that.”

He looked up down again, face set. “Just… just leave me alone. I’ll take care of it how _I_ take care of it, and you… you just… try to aim for something you can actually achieve, for once.”

He gazed up when all he received was silence.

Papyrus looked stricken.

Sans panicked, all of a sudden realizing the implications of what he had said. “Oh, shit, Papyrus, I… I didn’t mean—”

He spoke to the empty air. Papyrus had already run out of the house.

\---

Flowey had had a truly trying time attempting to hold back his laughter.

He’d been underneath the window, a perfectly innocuous place to find a flower growing, and listened to the entire argument.

Sans practically did his entire job _for_ him. He was prepared to bring many of these things up himself, and wow, Sans just really took initiative for once! All that stuff about not burdening others with your problems… Papyrus was definitely going to take that to heart. Flowey reminded himself to thank the older skeleton later, preferably during a moment of anguish.

Papyrus had burst out of his house and run for Waterfall, no doubt planning on venting to Undyne. When Sans didn’t follow— _How lazy can you get?_ —Flowey pushed his way underground. He knew a route he could take that would allow him to cut Papyrus off before the skeleton made it to his friend’s house. It was finally time for Flowey to take action, and he was positively giddy. All of his planning, at long last, was about to come to fruition.

\---

Papyrus wiped away his tears as he ran. They shone iridescent in the shimmering light of Waterfall, and he knew things would get even worse if he went to Undyne’s house with any evidence of crying on his face. She’d probably beat Sans into dust and then beat his dust.

He stopped to catch his breath against one of the glimmering walls and noticed, in his blind dash, that he’d run into a dead end. He took a deep breath, attempting to clear his head. Just as he was about to turn—

“Howdy, Papyrus!”

The tall skeleton jumped and nearly bumped his head on the tunnel ceiling. Flowey giggled in response. “I’m sorry, Papyrus. Did I scare you?”

Papyrus wiped his face once more before turning around, and attempted to put on his brave face.

“H-hello, Flowey,” he stuttered, failing his goal of sounding casual. “Yes, you surprised me. I won’t let my guard down again, though, so good luck!”

Flowey tsked. “Papyrus? You don’t look too good. Have you been crying?” When Papyrus failed to respond, the flower put on a look of mild horror, even putting his leaves to his mouth to complete the look. “Oh no! Did your brother hurt you? Oh, I never should have told you about him! What did he do in his drunken rage?”

Papyrus shook his head sadly. “He... he didn’t _do_ anything. We just… talked, and it, it...”

“It didn’t go over too well, huh?” Flowey murmured sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Papyrus. I didn’t know I was going to cause so much trouble. You just deserved to know the truth!” He wilted, looking despondent.

Papyrus crouched down next to Flowey. “No, no, don’t be like that! If anything, I’m glad you told me! I know you have my best interests at heart, Flowey, and I’m truly grateful. I just don’t know how to fix this.” He shrugged helplessly. “Sans doesn’t want my help.”

Flowey remained quiet for a few moments longer, before straightening up. “I had a sibling.”

Papyrus looked at him, both intrigued and incredulous at once. Flowey nodded earnestly. “Yeah, I did! They were pretty cool, but we argued a lot too. They called me names, sometimes.” At the skeletons’s concerned look, Flowey added, “Nothing I didn’t deserve, I must admit. But trust me when I say I understand sibling relationships! If you want to talk about this, I’m here for you.”

Papyrus nodded, mostly convinced, but not very happy, either. Flowey perked up even more. “Say, speaking of that, I wanna show you something! It’s not too far from here. In fact, it was my sibling who discovered the place. I think you’ll like it.”

Papyrus smiled nervously. “I was planning on seeing Undyne, but… sure! You said it’s close by?”

“Yeah, just follow me!” The flower burrowed under the dark soil and reappeared a few yards away. “C’mon, Papyrus!”

Papyrus stood and followed his friend.

They walked for a few minutes before reaching one of the docks. Flowey pointed across the water with a leaf. “You can’t really see it from here, but there’s more land on the other side. I can make it there, no problem. As for you, this little guy here,” he said, gesturing to a round, pink monster bobbing out of the water, “He’ll take you over, basically free of charge!”

Papyrus looked across the lake, eyes narrowed to try and detect the area the flower spoke of. He conveyed his uncertainty to his friend with a quick glance, and Flowey chortled. “Trust me! I’ll see you soon!”

He vanished underground again. Papyrus approached the pink monster. “Three gold for the ferry,” it gurgled. Papyrus dug around in his pocket for some spare change, but when he found it, he was unsure if the monster had hands to take it from him. He stepped onto it, wincing as his boots landed squarely on its face. 

“Take me across, please,” asked tall skeleton. The monster left the dock behind, swimming surprisingly smoothly despite the weight upon it. Within a few minutes, they had arrived at the other side. Papyrus stepped off it as quickly as possible to be polite, and it gave him a small smile. “Thanks for stepping on my face,” it said. “Here's the 3 gold.” Then it coughed out three coins and left back the way it had come.

Papyrus hesitantly picked up the coins, and stared around at the land he was standing on. There seemed to be fewer crystals in the walls, so the light level was low, to say the least. He jumped when Flowey suddenly popped up in front of him. “See? I told you we could get here, easy! Follow me, it’s not much farther.”

They walked in near complete darkness, the skeleton’s unease becoming more and more palpable. “Flowey, are you sure you’re going the right way?”

“Positive!” Flowey chirped, and they rounded a corner to find a massive, jagged slash carved into the rock face. It had the appearance of being torn open by hand, or possibly by large claws; something had slashed it multiple times until the surrounding stone had given and crumbled, revealing a tunnel behind it. “What happened here?” Papyrus asked, his voice hushed in a mixture of trepidation and awe.

“Well,” Flowey began, popping underground to reappear on the other side of the opening, “The entrance was initially only big enough for a couple of scrawny kids to sneak through, so since I’d been meaning to show you this place, I made it bigger.”

Papyrus was having trouble reconciling the raw power that had moved solid stone to Flowey, his small, fragile-looking friend. The flower seemed to read his expression, and giggled. “Oh, Papyrus. Appearances can be deceiving. C’mon, we’re basically there. From here on, though, you have to close your eyes!”

Papyrus balked. “I wouldn’t be able to see anyway, it’s near pitch black! Flowey, I’m getting a little uncomfortable being so deep into Waterfall. How did you two even find this place? Weren’t your parents worried about you getting lost, or hurt?”

An ugly expression flashed across Flowey’s face, but only for a moment. He cheerfully replied, “They never found out. Nothing bad happened, Papyrus; don’t be such a scaredy cat! I promise, it’ll be worth it.

Papyrus took a deep breath, and walked through the gap to the other side. He closed his eyes, as his friend had bade him. “Good, Papyrus,” Flowey said, seemingly very pleased. “Just keep walking straight until I tell you to stop.”

They walked further. Bare rock began to turn to silky grass under his boots as he walked up what seemed to be a slow incline. Just as it became rather steep, Flowey spoke up. “Okay, turn around and sit down here.” Once he had done what his friend had asked, Flowey said, voice full of excitement, “Okay, Papyrus: Open your eyes!”

Papyrus did as he was told, and let out a soft gasp of amazement. After a moment of adjustment, he saw that the now cavernous ceiling of the tunnel he had passed through was blanketed in small, glowing crystals. Some shone blue, some sparkled purple-pink, but most were patterns and swirls of white dots.

Enraptured, Papyrus managed to get out, “It’s… that must be what—”

“It’s what the sky looks like.”

They sat there in awed silence for a few moments. Finally, the skeleton managed to tear his gaze away from the brilliant lights above him. “Flowey, I’m sorry I was so hesitant before; this place is amazing! It’s so… peaceful.”

Flowey nodded. “Lie down, it makes it easier to relax.” Papyrus leaned back, cradling his skull in his hands. He let out another appreciative sigh as the soft grass fanned out around him, making for comfortable bedding.

After another, somewhat long pause, Flowey broke the silence. “I brought you here for a reason, Papyrus. I’ve noticed that you seem to be really down, lately, and it makes me sad to see you that way! I want to help you as much as I can, to see that you get your old spark back.”

Papyrus gave a small smile. “Thank you, Flowey. I’m not sure if that’s possible; I was so blissfully ignorant of all the things that were happening around me... that were happening _to_ me. I’m better off knowing, but I’m not much happier.”

Flowey popped up just above Papyrus’s head, and patted his skull with a leaf. “I know, friend. But I know a way to help you blow off some steam! It’s a special, therapeutic technique I developed myself! No one else in the underground knows how to do it,” Flowey concluded, sounding... smug?

“Alright, what is it? What do I do?” Papyrus asked, fidgeting a little in mild performance anxiety.

Flowey giggled. “You don’t have to do anything! Well, I suppose you have to do one thing, but first, I need to ask you an important question.

“Papyrus, do you trust me?”

The question took the skeleton by surprise. He was silent for a moment or two before nodding. “At this point, after everything with the people in Snowdin, and Sans’s lies, I… I think I trust you the most. I trust you, Flowey.”

Papyrus, given how he was lying down, could not see the viciously triumphant grin on Flowey’s face.

“Good, Papyrus,” he cooed.

“Then summon your soul for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, nearly there! In the next chapter, you may find out why I chose what I did for the name of the fic.
> 
> I'd like to thank my beta-reader, [angstwithtea](http://archiveofourown.org/users/angstwithtea/pseuds/angstwithtea), for sticking this wild ride out with me.


	5. Therapist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flower and a tall skeleton share a bonding experience, and a small skeleton and a fish share a deep sense of worry.

Papyrus sat up and stared blankly at Flowey.

“I’m… sorry?” he said, sounding genuinely confused. 

Flowey chuckled. “Your soul, silly! I can’t do this if you don’t summon your soul.”

“W-well, Flowey, I’m not sure about that,” Papyrus stammered. “I’ve n-never shown it to anyone! Not even Sans,” he added, as an afterthought.

The flower grinned widely at him. “Well, of course! The soul is a delicate thing, and has to be treated with care. It makes sense that you would only show it to people you _trust_.”

Papyrus flinched. “I… I suppose you’re right,” he conceded, sounding uncertain, and ever so slightly bitter. “That would explain why I’ve never seen his…”

“And you trust _me_ , don’t you, Papyrus?” Flowey pressed, leaning in toward his skeletal friend. “You just told me so!” The flower paused, waiting for some confirmation. When he received none, he continued, ”...Don’t tell me you were lying!” Flowey sounded mildly shocked.

“No, I swear I wasn’t!” Papyrus rushed out. He scratched awkwardly at his cervical vertebrae, seemingly gathering his thoughts. Then, slowly, he looked into Flowey’s eyes and said, “I do trust you, Flowey, I promise. You’re my best friend!”

Flowey touched a leaf to his stem in a gesture of sincerity. “Thank you, friend. You have no idea how much that means to me. Now, just lie down and summon your soul. I’ll take care of the rest,” he finished, winking cheekily.

Papyrus took a deep breath and reclined back onto the grassy slope, as he had been before. He focused deep inside his being, calling upon his magic to make his soul visible. The beginnings of a watery glow shimmered inside his ribcage, but faded quickly. The skeleton let out a quick pant of exertion. “I’m sorry, Flowey. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing.” He looked incredibly nervous.

Something suddenly touched Papyrus’s hand, and he yelped in surprise. He look and saw, to his bemusement, that a vine had pushed out of the ground and wrapped loosely around his palm. “What in…” Papyrus tugged at it with his free hand.

He was distracted by a light chuckle from his friend. “Relax, Papyrus, I’m just holding your hand! I thought that having some support might make things easier for you.” The vine squeezed gently.

“O-oh,” Papyrus mumbled, a light flush glowing on his cheekbones. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Of course I can, Papyrus! I’m sure you’ve seen me use them at some point in the past.” He smirked—Papyrus _had_ seen them before, in many timelines, in fact—before continuing, “I don’t exactly have hands, you know.” Flowey spoke using the same tone one would use to correct someone who’d said something insensitive.

Papyrus grimaced, but he settled down and made himself comfortable regardless; this time, he didn’t flinch when he felt another vine loop around his other hand. 

“Concentrate,” Flowey murmured. “I believe in you, Papyrus.”

Not wanting to let his friend down, the skeleton looked inside himself, focusing on his energy once more. He centered all his will into making his soul corporeal, and sure enough, his soul slowly flickered into view. It floated upward to hover just above his ribcage. The soul shone brightly; it was a beacon of light in the dark cave. A few beads of sweat dripped down Papyrus’s skull from the exertion, but the smile Flowey gave him made it all worth it.

Two more vines rose through the dirt, and one moved to either side of the heart-shaped manifestation before pausing. “Papyrus, I’m going to grab ahold of your soul. It may feel weird at first, but don’t panic. I promise I’ll be gentle with you!”

Papyrus took another deep breath and nodded, his eyelids fluttering shut in anticipation.

One vine coiled partially around the soul, and Papyrus gasped at the sensation, his eyes shooting back open and his spine involuntarily arching off the ground a little.

“Whoops! Did that startle you?” Flowey chuckled, and pulled the soul closer to himself. Papyrus attempted to grab it away, but his hands were still being held by Flowey’s other vines, so it was a hopeless endeavor.

“Th-that felt… v-very weird. It doesn’t… f-feel right.”

“You’re just not used to having your soul touched, so it makes sense that you’d be a little sensitive. You’ll be fine, Papyrus,” Flowey said, somewhat dismissively. Papyrus settled down, still uneasy, and braced himself.

Ever so carefully, Flowey drew one tip of a vine over the surface in light circles. Papyrus let out a huff of breath. He was already feeling slightly overwhelmed, but he didn’t want to disappoint Flowey. He decided to say nothing.

Then the other vine began to move as well, dipping underneath the soul and rubbing the underside. Papyrus choked out a moan, surprising himself. “I c-can’t seem to keep quiet, Flowey, i-is… hnnn.. is th-that n-normal?”

The flower gave a chirp of assent. “Don’t worry about that; that’s one of the first signs that it’s working, in fact. Next, your body will start to get a little tingly, so let me know when that happens. I want you to know when you feel good, Papyrus.”

Papyrus nodded shakily, closing his eyes again. He stopped trying to hold in the little noises that would bubble out of him. Above him, the flower grinned, his faint blush going unnoticed by the skeleton beneath him.

Flowey cleared his throat. “Papyrus, this is a therapeutic technique, so I think we should treat this like a therapy session. I want you to tell me how you feel when you’re upset, so that we can work through this together.”

“Ahh… a-alright, Flowey. Th-thank you.”

Flowey squeezed the vines around Papyrus’s hands in a comforting matter. “We should think about what you’re going to do when you get home. What will you do then?”

Papyrus attempted to answer, but squeaked as Flowey went from caressing the soul to gently squeezing it. His pelvis briefly canted up into the air before he self-consciously slammed it back down.

“I-I suppose I should try to—mmm—apologize to Sans, f-for losing my temper with him,” Papyrus began, only for Flowey to interrupt him.

“Why should you apologize? Surely Sans is the aggressor here, is he not?”

Papyrus considered, but only briefly. “Regardless, even if we are both at fault, I should st-still apologize.”

Flowey shook his head, “What happens if you two start to argue again because you try to discuss what happened?”

“W-well, I—aaAAAH!” The vines had gone back to stroking, with firmer touches that sent shudders down Papyrus’s spine. He tried to get his breathing under control. Flowey took the opportunity to continue speaking.

“Think about it, Papyrus. Trying to work out your problems already started a pretty serious fight. He hurt you kinda badly—I saw you crying, don’t deny it,” he said, mildly stern in tone, as Papyrus tried to shake his head. “Be honest, Papyrus. What did Sans tell you when you told him you wanted to help?”

Papyrus’s bleak expression contrasted amusingly with his heavy breathing and twitching frame; Flowey had to hold in his laughter.

“H-he said that he didn’t want my help… that he would solve things… h-his way.”

“Which of course means more drinking,” Flowey continued. “Talking to him didn’t fix that, it seems.”

Papyrus’s jaw quivered, and his chest hitched as he let out a sob. Flowey brought up another vine to stroke the skeleton’s cheekbone soothingly, and gently shushed him. “Papyrus, Papyrus. You don’t deserve to be ignored like that. Really, at this point, it seems you only have two options.”

The tendrils around the skeleton’s soul moved quicker. “The way I see it, you can either ignore the matter entirely,” the flower paused, and grinned at the skeleton writhing beneath him, “or you can just try to keep him inside the house.”

Papyrus opened his eyes in shock, and choked on his words as the vines moved faster still. “Wh- _what_? I couldn’t—I c-couldn’t...ah, ah—aaAAH!”

His soul let out a pulse of energy, and Papyrus arched up once more, every bone straining as the tensions he’d been feeling came to a head. His moans echoed in the cave, causing Flowey to shudder. _That was really something_ , he thought to himself.

Papyrus slumped against the ground, out of breath. Flowey continued to soothingly stroke his cheek. “Just think about it for me, alright, Papyrus?”

The skeleton didn’t respond, still attempting to calm his gasping. Flowey gave a sharklike grin. “Well, you don’t have to worry about it yet, I suppose. You’re going to have plenty of time for that during our second session. Just once isn’t enough, you know!”

Papyrus opened his eyes and stared, uncomprehending, at his friend. “Y-you… you mean you’re g-going to do that _again_?”  


\---

Sans cursed himself a thousand times over.

Of course he would say the worst possible thing. Of course he was too drunk to chase after his brother. Of _fucking_ course Papyrus wouldn’t have his cell phone with him.

He’d called, multiple times, until he’d realized he could hear it ringing from Papyrus’s bedroom. Sans had paced around the entire house at least a dozen times, desperately trying to understand how he could have messed up so colossally. His life was just a series of huge mistakes, and he’d driven away the only good thing in it. Of. _Fucking_. Course.

By the time it occurred to him that his brother must have run off to talk to Undyne, it was already three in the morning. Early hour be damned, he needed to call her. He needed to know his brother was okay.

The small skeleton sat wearily on his couch, dialing the captain’s number with shaking phalanges. When he finally managed it, he pressed it to his skull and waited. One ring, two rings, three rings. _Please pick up_ , Sans prayed.

“ _Do you even_ know _what time it is, punk?_ ”

Sans could’ve cried with relief. “Undyne, I _need_ to talk to Papyrus.”

Dead quiet. And then, “Are you drunk again?”

“What?! No! I mean, yes, but that’s not important! Please, _please_ let me talk to Papyrus.”

“Why would Papyrus be at my house at three in the morning?”

Sans’s eyelights flickered and vanished.

Undyne spoke with a tone of growing concern. “... are you telling me that you don’t know where Papyrus is?”

When he remained silent, a stream of curses broke out on the other end of the line. There was a creaking sound Sans took to mean that the fish woman had scrambled out of bed. Then, he heard a series of loud clanging noises. Undyne must have been putting on her armor.

Finally she returned to the phone. “Okay, when did you last see him? You thought he was with me, so you must have seen him heading toward Waterfall.”

Sans nodded, as though that could be conveyed through the phone. “I saw him around one in the morning. We… we sort of had an argument, and he ran off, and I don’t know where he is and I am really, _really_ worried, Undyne.”

The captain made a noise of derision. “You two had an _argument_? What was it over this time? His spaghetti? Your stupid dirty sock?”

Sans groaned in agitation. “No! This is not a good time for jokes, Undyne, and that’s coming from me. Look, I made a stupid fucking mistake, and I need to set things right with him.”

“This was _two hours_ ago?” Undyne said incredulously. “What have you been doing all this time? Sitting on your thumbs?? Why didn't you call sooner?”

Sans made a helpless sort of noise in response.

Undyne paused before speaking again, and Sans could hear a hint of a snarl in her voice. “Alright, I’m gonna call some of the other guards and tell them to be on the lookout for him. Once he’s safe and sound, you and I are going to have a long conversation.”

Sans chuckled grimly. “I suppose I owe you that much. Thank you so much, Undyne. Do you want me to help look?

The captain snorted. “You sound so drunk that you’re liable to trip and dust yourself before you get halfway to Waterfall. Just stay at home, punk; the Guard will handle this.”

Undyne hung up, and Sans slumped against the couch, burying his head in his hands. _I'm the most useless brother in the world._  


\---

“Papyrus, I told you to tell me how you’re feeling. That’s what’s important in all of this!”

Papyrus had trouble responding with how he had to heave for breath and the way he couldn’t seem to stop shivering. Still, Flowey was sure that he couldn’t deny that on some level, it did feel pleasant.

“It’s... g-good, Flowey. I also f-feel very tired—I m-mean, relaxed—just like you said I’d b-be.”

The flower smiled. “Oh, good. So it _is_ working!” 

Flowey grinned to himself, feeling satisfied. Sure, he’d known how to do this in theory, but he’d never tried it out. It had never seemed like a worthwhile endeavor until now. But it was working wonders. Papyrus was going to pieces, and as for Flowey? Well, he couldn’t deny that this was an enjoyable experience for him too. Even on the brink of death, Papyrus was almost never this uncomposed. It gave him his own sort of pleasure to see his favorite like that, and know that he was the reason Papyrus felt that way.

“Good, Papyrus. Deep breaths. Tell me how this feels,” he cooed, and this time, he stuck one of the vines directly inside Papyrus’s soul. The skeleton practically howled, and quaked as his soul let out another burst of magic.

Flowey waited for Papyrus to calm down, stroking his skull again. Papyrus turned his head into the touch, cheekbones flushed. His panting gradually slowed, and he went lax as the last of the tension drained from his bones. Smiling, Flowey moved closer. “Papyrus,” he coaxed gently.

The skeleton blinked his eyes open wearily and gazed at the flower. “Papyrus, do you think you could handle a third session?” When Papyrus remained silent, he added, “For me?”

Papyrus started shaking again. He winced at Flowey’s disappointed look, though it smoothed out almost as quickly as it had appeared. He laughed softly. “Alright, I suppose you’ve earned it. You were very good today, Papyrus.”

Papyrus not-so-subtly let out a breath of relief. “Th-then,” he began, “I sh-should go home. Sans is probably—”

Flowey pressed a vine to the skeleton’s mouth to hush him. “Absolutely not, Papyrus! This technique is like a reset for the body. If you tried walking, you’d probably just collapse from exhaustion. I’d be worried about you the whole way home, my friend.”

Papyrus tried to speak again, but Flowey talked over him. “Besides, can you think of a better place to sleep? It’s like you’re on the surface, Papyrus!”

Flowey moved the vine from his mouth to gently stroke Papyrus’s cervical vertebrae in a soothing manner, and smiled as Papyrus shuddered, likely still too sensitive for the contact. He adopted a lulling tone of voice. “And isn’t the grass so soft? Your bones probably feel so heavy… wouldn’t it be nice to just go to sleep? I promise, friend, I’ll take good care of you.”

Flowey noted with satisfaction that his friend’s eyelids were beginning to droop, despite the skeleton’s initial worry.

Papyrus closed his eyes and mumbled, “I… I suppose I could just take,” he paused to yawn, “just take a q-quick nap.”

And he was snoring in no time.

Flowey smiled fondly at his toy. “Good boy, Papyrus.”

This was the beginning of a wonderful new timeline. Flowey was certain of it.  


\---

It was late at night in the Underground, and all through the caves, hardly a creature stirred. As everyone lay snug in their beds, the only movement came from the tossing and turning of a small skeleton, too anxious to sleep—for once, it would not come easily to him—the swift steps of recently awakened sentries, and the quick, thudding gait of a captain determined to find her friend. Though they searched all over Waterfall, not a single one of them thought to check the darker depths of the caverns; places that no one had explored. Or at least, that’s what they assumed. In those dark depths, a tall skeleton slept, exhausted, dead to the world, and blissfully unaware of the frantic search to find him.

Close by, a flower kept watch and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is Flowey? Why, it's all there in the name.
> 
> I'm not used to writing this sort of thing, so hopefully it came out alright.
> 
> Toby Fox mentioned that Papyrus knows nothing about sex, so I took that to mean that Paps has literally never heard of it and wouldn't know what it entailed if he did. He is too innocent and pure for this world.


	6. A Headache You Can't Sleep Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a reunion, a departure, and a shocking revelation.

Sans woke, and at first, he wasn’t sure why. Shortly after, the headache hit him, and he didn’t have the capacity to think about it any longer. Sans groaned; he was clearly still hungover, which meant something had woken him up earlier than normal. He wanted to roll onto his stomach to escape the brightness of the light, but the idea of being in such close proximity to his own stale breath wasn’t very appealing. He’d have to just deal with it.

The next thing he noticed, most important of all, was that he could smell something burning. It was a familiar sort of burning odor, and all of a sudden, it hit Sans: it was the smell that wafted out of the kitchen whenever his brother was cooking.

When his brother… _Oh God, Papyrus!_

Sans managed to heave himself into a seated position and clutched his head, groaning again. God, he’d been an idiot last night. He _had_ to fix the mistakes he’d made. However, just as he was gathering his strength to stagger off the couch, a new scent presented itself to him: strong, black coffee. Sans warily opened his eyes, and there, standing stiffly before him with a mug in his outstretched hand, was Papyrus.

Sans couldn’t do much more than gawk dumbly at his brother, jaw slightly agape. Papyrus stared back at him—no, he wasn’t looking at him; rather, he was gazing somewhere behind him. When Sans continued to do nothing, Papyrus muttered something about laziness and pushed the mug into the older skeleton’s hand, closing Sans’s fingers around it. The smaller brother suddenly found himself able to speak again, the contact shaking him out of his hungover daze.

“Thank you, Papyrus.” Sans said, trying and somewhat failing to convey how much he meant it.

Papyrus seemed to understand anyway. He paused for a moment, before nodding and replying, “You’re welcome. Lunch will be ready soon, so I hope you’re hungry!” Then his brother turned back toward the kitchen.

Sans panicked, and grabbed onto his brother’s hand. “Bro, wait.”

Papyrus went stiff and tense before relaxing, and Sans inwardly cursed himself again. He’d really messed up this time; Papyrus had never seemed to dislike physical contact, even when they’d fought before. His brother sighed wearily, and murmured, “I’m not going to talk about it, Sans.”

Sans frowned. “Papyrus, seriously, we kinda have to—”

Papyrus wouldn’t look at him. “No, Sans.”

Desperation crept into the older brother’s voice. “C’mon, Paps, I’m begging you, just—”

“Sans… _please_.”

The sudden change in tone startled Sans into silence. Papyrus seemed to have wilted slightly, the life going out of his limbs. The only thing that remained tense was the hand in Sans’s grip.

Quietly, Papyrus continued, “I don’t want to argue with you again. Trying to work out our problems, well… talking couldn't fix it _then_ , so...”

Papyrus sounded tired, and Sans was scared that it was the same kind of tired _he’d_ been suffering from for so long. He searched for something to say. “At—at least tell me where you went last night. Half of the Guard was out looking for you... Undyne, too! No one could find you, Paps.”

Papyrus whirled around, looking shocked, and… guilty? “W-why was the Guard looking for me?”

Sans hesitated, but before Papyrus could ask again, the smaller skeleton blurted out, “Look, I panicked, okay? We’d just had a serious fight, you hadn’t shown up at Undyne’s like I thought you would, and… and look, our family has some issues! I was scared… I was scared that…”

He looked away, seemingly unable to finish. Papyrus gently pulled his hand out of Sans’s grip, crouched down, and put that hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Sans,” he said, tone somewhere between sheepish and stern, “You didn’t have to do that. I just… got sidetracked.”

Sans gazed up in disbelief. “You got sidetracked for an entire night?”

Then Papyrus did something Sans didn’t expect: he blushed fiercely and looked away, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes. “Yes. I was… I was just visiting a friend.”

Now Sans was thoroughly confused. “But Undyne said you never showed up at her place.”

“I have other friends than Undyne, Sans!” said the taller brother, immediately on the defensive. He even crossed his arms and pouted. _Seriously?_ Sans resisted the urge to chuckle at the image before him, refocusing on the issue at hand.

“Okay, then, well… who? Who did you go see? _Where_ did you go? You can’t just vanish like that, Papyrus.”

“Oh my god, Sans, I’m not a babybones!” Papyrus griped, standing up straight. “I’m almost twenty! It’s not like you’re responsible for me anymore.” He paused, and added, quite seriously, “I have a life.”

Sans gaped at him, a small amount of mirth creeping into his expression. “You’ve got to be _kid_ -ding me.”

“ _Oh my god!_ ”

Sans snickered. “Uh, you’d better believe I’m still responsible for you, Papyrus. You’ll always be my little bro.” A little more somberly, he continued, “You can tell me; I promise I won’t be mad.”

“I’m not lying, Sans. Do you really think you have the right to accuse me of that?” Papyrus muttered, somewhat bitterly. He looked up; Sans’s eye sockets had flickered to emptiness.

Immediately he covered his mouth in shame. Dolefully, he mumbled, “See, we’re arguing again. I’m… I’m sorry.” The younger brother turned and sped up the stairs to his room, closing the door behind him.

Sans staggered numbly up off the couch, draining his lukewarm coffee in one gulp, and headed toward the kitchen to turn off the heat on the stove before the the house burned down.

He rested his head in his hands, sure that he was already reaching the end of his rope. Sans felt alone and uncertain, not knowing if he’d ever be able to fix what had happened.

Upstairs, his brother felt the same.

\---

Papyrus ached all over. Sleeping on rocks turned out to not be much fun, regardless of how much grass was on top of it. He’d woken up, stiff all over, and at first was unsure of where he was or how he’d gotten there. Then Flowey leaned over him from behind. “Morning, sleepyhead!”

His friend grinned at him, full of the energy that Papyrus, for once in his life, seemed to lack. Flowey continued, his tone somewhat chastising, “You took forever. I was starting to get worried, my friend!”

“I-I’m sorry,” Papyrus stuttered, unsure of himself. He attempted to push himself up off the ground and found his hands still being held by the vines. “Uh, Flowey? Would you mind letting me go?”

The flower pouted. “Aww, Papyrus, you mean you don’t like it?” 

The vines rubbed small circles into his palms, and he shuddered. “No, i-it was nice, I j-just need to get up. Please?”

Flowey took on a look of playful consideration, before the vines finally released him and retreated back into the ground. “Alright, since you asked so nicely.”

Papyrus finally pushed himself off the ground, and winced as his spine twinged. “Flowey, perhaps next time, I would just like to go home. These rocks don’t make for a very comfortable bed.”

Flowey made a shrugging motion. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Once you get used to this, it shouldn’t be too hard for you to hobble on home afterward.”

Papyrus stumbled up onto unsteady legs. He rubbed his arm uncertainly. “Then, I suppose, it’s time for me to go home. How long was I asleep?”

His friend looked thoughtful. “I’m not quite sure. It could be five hours, it could have been eight or nine. You can’t really track the passage of time this deep underground, Papyrus.”

Papyrus’s jaw dropped in shock. _Eight or nine hours?_ Sans was probably going out of his mind with worry. “I need to leave right away then!” He turned to exit the cave.

“Not yet, you don’t! We still have some things to talk about, Papyrus.”

The skeleton winced, and looked back. “Yes?”

Flowey grinned at him. “I just need to make sure you... understand a few things before you go.”

The flower waited until Papyrus nodded before continuing, “First, remember, Sans is probably still upset about last night. It’s probably not worth it to bring it up at all. It’ll just spare everyone’s feelings."

He paused, allowing Papyrus to take in what he had said. Then, just as cheerfully, he added, “The next thing I want to get out of the way is our schedule!”

Papyrus stared, looking suddenly drained. “There’s going to be a schedule for this?”

The flower nodded. “Yep! I want you to visit me every two or three days, but you can come any time you feel particularly sad! I’ll be in the area for a while, and when you find me, we can come here to have a nice talk again. Also, you should probably come in something more comfortable than your… armor.”

The skeleton fidgeted. He hadn’t worn anything other than his battle body in so long, but he would wear something else, if it meant he’d be less sore next time. And, if it would make his friend happy, then all the more reason to comply.

“Finally,” Flowey continued, expression serious, “I want you to remember that this is _my_ special technique. If you tell anyone about it, you could put me out of business! So please, don’t give away my trade secrets, Papyrus. I’m trusting you with this!”

The thought of letting his one, truly loyal friend down filled Papyrus with dread. “Y-yes, Flowey. I promise.”

Immediately his friend’s visage brightened up. “Good, Papyrus. Thank you for being such a good friend! Do you have anything else you’d like to say?” His tone sounded expectant.

Papyrus flushed and looked away. “Ah… th-thank you. For this.”

“It was my genuine pleasure, friend! Come again soon, y’hear?”

Papyrus nodded compliantly, waved goodbye to his best friend, and left the way he’d came. He’d never been so glad to see the glistening light of Waterfall before.

\---

Sans was starting to notice a pattern.

The second time Papyrus disappeared, two days after he’d run away the first time, he’d panicked again. This time, however, he chose not to call Undyne. When Sans had called the captain to let her Papyrus had come home, she’d been relieved to know that her friend was safe, but was irritated and confused about how he’d somehow managed to slip past her guards on his way. Everyone was frustrated.

A few hours later, Papyrus came home, once again stiff and looking slightly morose. When he saw Sans, he straightened up and acted like nothing was wrong. When questioned, all he do was look guilty and say that he’d been visiting his friend again. Sans was getting more than a little confused himself.

This had become a recurring event in the skeleton household. Papyrus would disappear without a trace, and come back after a few hours looking tired, but not physically worse for wear. He’d flush and say he’d been with a friend, but he never seemed particularly happy about it.

Sans wracked his brain for about a week for an answer, for a way to divine what was happening to his brother. Then, he’d had the notion of following Papyrus.

He was immediately ashamed of himself for thinking of it, but… clearly, Papyrus had been following _him_ the night of the argument, if he’d seen him drinking. And Sans was really just concerned for his brother’s safety and wellbeing.

So, with the matter decided, Sans waited up one night, and pretended to sleep when his door creaked open and his brother peered through the gloom. Then, once it shut, Sans waited for a count of ten and crept out of bed. When he peered out through his doorway, he saw that the house was now empty, save for him. It was time.

Sans took a shortcut behind the shed, and sure enough, Papyrus walked past, heading toward Waterfall. For some reason, he wasn’t wearing his usual armor, and that was even more cause for alarm.

Sans walked behind his brother, staying back around five yards and dodging out of sight whenever his brother would turn to see if someone was there. The biggest surprise for Sans was when Papyrus stopped to take the small pink Ferry, and then went in a direction the Ferry just _didn’t_ go.

He crept to the edge of the dock and crouched among the water sausages as his brother disappeared into the gloom. About five minutes later, the Ferry returned, and hesitantly, he revealed himself to the small monster. “Hey, if you take me where he went, I’ll step on you extra hard.”

The Ferry gurgled happily and offered its face to Sans.

Not long after, Sans arrived on a shore that was uncomfortably close to some of the older caverns. The smaller skeleton had slowly grown more and more concerned as his brother headed deeper into Waterfall, into caves no one truly bothered to explore due to the darkness and fear of less benevolent monsters lurking around.

_Papyrus, what are you_ doing _here?_ Sans wondered, thoroughly unsettled. He floundered around in the dark for a while, eventually lighting his eye to provide something to brighten the area. He crouched down to study the marshy ground; it didn’t take him long to identify his brother’s tracks. He followed the trail, walking for a minute or two more before he finally reached a jagged crack in the rock face with a corridor leading beyond. Sans felt, more than knew, that this must be where his brother was. Extinguishing his eye, he slowly crept along the passage.

It wasn’t long before he heard the voices. His brother was definitely there, but… Sans was immensely frustrated and disconcerted at once. He recognized the other voice, but only dimly, like one heard in a dream; he was being hit with waves of déjà vu. His brother and the other monster were talking about something, but Sans couldn’t quite make it out, the distance and the quietness working against him.

Then, something brightened, illuminating the entrance to a cavern ahead of him. He would have advanced, if the noises hadn’t started. _Oh… God._

Sans found himself back at home, not entirely sure when he’d taken the shortcut, but feeling entirely too uncomfortable to care. To think that his brother, his little brother… no. No, there had to be another explanation. Papyrus wouldn’t—he was just…

Papyrus was just too _innocent_.

Sans paced around, head in his hands and feeling vaguely sick. He was trying to understand, but he couldn’t reconcile what he’d heard with what he knew about his brother. Not to mention, Papyrus alway came home seeming upset. That wasn’t right, no matter what the context.

Whoever his little brother had been with… were they pressuring Papyrus into…?

Sans really needed a drink. He was halfway to the front door when he paused. No, he couldn’t do that to Papyrus after all of this. He needed to be around and support his brother during… whatever this was that he was going through. He needed to be sober.

Right then and there, he made up his mind that it was time for him to quit. He owed his brother that much.

\---

When the tall skeleton came home, he found his brother was still in his room, asleep where he’d left him. Or at least, still pretending to be. In truth, Sans was still too unsettled to relax.

Papyrus walked into his own room, climbed into bed, and immediately dropped into sleep. It was close to morning, but he was far too weary to stay up for the time it would take for his alarm went off. He was uncomfortable as ever, a little shaky and sensitive, but at least he would not be sore.

Small mercies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is curious, I see Papyrus as a month or two away from 20, Sans as 25-26, and Undyne as in her early thirties. Flowey, if you added up all the time spent across various timelines and resets, would be maybe in his late twenties.
> 
> Forgive me for my choice of title.


	7. What You Don't Know Can and Will Hurt You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a storm a-comin'. Oh wait. It's already here. In which attempts to help are made, a flower gets an idea, a snowy adventure takes place, and the ante is upped.

Papyrus was having an internal struggle. Flowey had told him he could visit any time he was upset, but Papyrus wasn’t quite looking forward to the prospect of heading out to the Waterfall cavern. For one, he didn’t quite like whatever it was Flowey did with his soul. He wasn’t sure why. Sure, his body told him it felt nice, but it just never felt... _right_. He didn’t have the heart to tell his friend that, however; Flowey seemed so happy to be able to help him.

For another thing, there was a pretty bad storm going on outside. He wasn’t going to risk heading out in that just because he felt bad. He didn’t really want to sleep, either, because the blizzard kept sending tree branches knocking into the side of the house. He instead decided to put on some comfortable, casual clothes, settle onto the couch with a mug of hot chocolate, and watch an episode of one of Mettaton’s shows. That had always cheered him up in the past.

Papyrus heard the sound of a door opening, and glanced upward. Sans had just walked out of his room, and was staggering down the stairs. “Hey, bro,” Sans yawned, and Papyrus couldn’t help but notice that he looked more tired than normal, which was saying something.

Papyrus paused his show, looking his brother up and down.“There’s still some coffee in the pot, but you might have to reheat it.”

Sans nodded, slowly but gratefully. He stood there for a few moments longer, just staring, and Papyrus fidgeted where he sat. “Sans,” he said cautiously, “is something wrong?”

His older brother seemed on the verge of speech, but eventually shook his head. “Man, I… I need my coffee first before I can even begin to think about it.” He walked into the kitchen, leaving Papyrus to stare after him with concern, and, though he couldn’t quite place why, dread.

Papyrus turned off the TV. It seemed that relaxing wasn’t going to work out today. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with Sans, but it seemed serious. Papyrus deeply hoped it wasn’t about the fight. He _did_ want to talk about it, to make sure it wouldn’t happen again, but he didn’t want things to get worse. Sans hadn’t argued against that point, so surely he agreed.

A few minutes later, Sans walked back into the living room, drinking straight out of the coffee pot. Papyrus looked on in disapproval, but Sans either didn’t notice or was just impervious to this subtle shaming. He set the empty container on the carpet by the couch and sat down next to Papyrus. He rubbed his forehead wearily, and finally spoke. “Bro, we… we need to talk.”

Papyrus tried not to wilt. “About… about what?” It seemed that they were going to have to rehash this old fight after all, and he prepared himself.

Sans sighed, and, without looking at his brother, began to speak quickly. “I’ve noticed that you haven’t been very happy lately, and… well, it’s always worse when you come home from your little… excursions. And I just have to ask, bro, what are you even getting up to out there? I mean, when people run away from their problems, they’re generally supposed to be in a better mood coming back.”

Papyrus unconsciously folded his arms across his chest, like he was trying to protect himself. “I’ve told you at least half a dozen times, Sans. I’ve been spending time with a friend.”

“But what are you _doing_ , I mean? This person can’t be that good of a friend if they’re making you feel _worse_.”

“No, he’s not! He’s just trying to help me, that’s all.”

Sans eyes narrowed slightly. “Help you how?”

“W-well, we… we talk about what upsets me, and he tries to help me de-stress.”

“So, what, he's like your therapist?”

“I suppose.”

“I hate to break it to you, Paps, but it’s kind of a conflict of interest to have a friend be responsible for your mental wellbeing. It's not healthy at all.” Sans paused, and sighed. “If you needed help, Papyrus, why didn’t you tell me? I’m sure we could’ve found a professional.”

“It's—look, Sans, I'm sure you're making this out to be bigger than it really is. He's just being a good friend!” _I'm_ sure _he is,_ Papyrus reassured himself. The alternative was unthinkable.

“Bigger than it really is? What is he doing t—with you?”

“I can't give away his trade secrets, Sans! He's trusting me!”

Sans grunted in frustration. “Well, I don't trust _him_. You go running out constantly with someone I don't know, who does things to you that you're not telling me about! I'm getting convinced that _you_ don't even know what he's doing. It's really sketchy, Papyrus, and I'm worried about your safety.”

Papyrus groaned. “He's not hurting me, Sans!”

“Well, then here's another question. When he does whatever it is he does, how does it make you feel?”

Papyrus looked away, quailing under Sans’s intense gaze. He didn't know what he did to deserve this interrogation, but now, he was making Papyrus doubt the only true friend he had left. “Sans, you’re making me uncomfortable. This is none of your business, anyway! You shouldn’t force me to talk about my feelings if I don’t want to discuss them. I don’t make _you_.”

Sans gawked. “I’m making _you_ uncomfortable? Papyrus, what if he’s taking ad—”

“Sans, stop it!” Papyrus put his face in his hands, trembling. Sans immediately stopped, not quite regretful but upset that his brother was refusing his help, was refusing to understand what was going on.

Papyrus took a deep breath and straightened up. “I am going,” he said shakily, “to see my best friend. He told me to come see him if I get upset, and I know he’s got my best interests at heart.”

“You’re not going out in _that_ , Papyrus, you’ll get blown off a cliff!” Sans walked in front of the door and blocked it off. “You’re not leaving. Don’t… don’t make me ground you!”

Papyrus heard the desperation in his brother’s voice, but he was too upset to care. “Sans, if you don’t let me out through the door, I’ll just jump through the window. You know I’ll do it.”

Sans winced; his brother was right. “At least take me with you,” he begged. “I’m only doing this because I’m worried about you, bro. I _do_ care about you; you’re all I’ve got, Paps. I couldn’t handle it if something bad was happening and I wasn’t able to help.”

Papyrus shuffled indecisively. It would just make things quicker to let Sans come, but Flowey insisted that no one know about him—perhaps he was just shy? Already, he had somewhat broken that promise. He couldn’t let him down even more. Papyrus shook his head regretfully. “I’m sorry, Sans. I just need to be alone for a while. Please let me go.”

Sans hesitated for a long time. Then he sighed and said, “Only if you let me go with you to the entrance of Waterfall. I don’t want you out alone in this weather.

Papyrus nodded. This, it seemed, was the best it would get. “Fine. But then won’t you be alone on your way back?”

Sans shrugged. “It’s fine, bro. I know a shortcut.”

“Alright, then. Let’s go, please.”

Sans shrugged on his coat, and together, the two walked out into the raging storm.

\---

Flowey lurked amidst a thick clump of echo flowers. Even though his petals were in stark contrast to the others, there was enough of them to keep him from sight. He’d been dozing—he’d Saved the night before, a process that was immensely draining, as his Determination-altered magic had to flow throughout and memorize the entire damn Underground—when footsteps nearby roused him. He looked up and grinned to himself: it was Papyrus! He’d come again to— _oh._

The Smiley Trashbag was there, too. Flowey would’ve groaned in displeasure had they not been close enough to hear it. He listened as the brothers talked. The smaller skeleton spoke first, brushing some snow off himself as he did so. “So, maybe just give me a text when you get there, alright? So I know when you’re there safely?”

Papyrus winced. “I actually left my phone at the house. I’m sorry, I don’t know how I keep forgetting!” Flowey kept himself from snorting. That was a lie—he was so proud of Papyrus!—he had instructed the skeleton to leave his phone in Snowdin to prevent any potential distractions. It made him conveniently hard to reach. Not that Papyrus would ever think to call for help. He was clueless. Not to mention, no one would come.

Sans looked frustrated. “Then I'm gonna run back and get it for you.”

Papyrus shuffled anxiously. “I don't want to keep him waiting.”

“Then just wait as long as you can. I'll be quick.”

With that, the older brother turned and marched back out toward the raging storm. Visibility was going to be low. Maybe Flowey would get lucky and the Trashbag would fall off a cliff.

Or, maybe…

Flowey sunk underground and burrowed outside.

\---

Sans trudged his way through deep snow, the chill so harsh he could actually feel the cold, for once. He could barely see anything, but that didn't matter. Once he was sure Papyrus couldn't see him, he would take a shortcut back. Speaking of which...

He turned around, almost falling due to the strength of the wind. He didn't know how Papyrus had convinced him to let him out during a huge blizzard. It was definitely getting stronger. Still, the snow whipped around at such a speed that he knew Papyrus wouldn't be able to see him now. He'd counted his steps on the way out; he knew how far he was from his house. He was about to teleport when something snaked around his ankle.

He barely had time to curse before he was pulled off his feet and, at an alarmingly quick pace, was dragged through the snow and into the woods. His hands scrabbled at the ground, trying to find purchase on something, but it only amounted to him grabbing handfuls of snow or carving lines into frozen wood that his hands simply slipped off of.

He thrashed, trying to flip onto his back, but whatever had grabbed him started whipping around, shaking him and making him dizzy. He went twisting in between trees and over small hills, and he realized with dread that he had no longer had any clue as to where he was.

Just then, the thing slowed down, and he couldn't stop himself from yelping in surprise as he was hoisted off the ground by his foot. It was then that he discovered that what he'd been grabbed by was a vine; one end of it was looped over a tree branch so that he dangled from it, unable to reach the ground. Some sort of vague alarm was screeching in the back of his mind; something seemed so _familiar_ about all of this. 

He twisted, swinging in an attempt to dislodge the vine from the branch. There was no hope in trying to do a midair sit-up to free his foot; he just wasn't fit enough. He could try to use a bone to sever it, but no, he was too far above ground. The snow wouldn't be enough to cushion his fall, and just like that, he'd dust. Unless…

Sans focused, calling on familiar magic until a blaster appeared out of thin air. Sans grinned at it. “Hey buddy. Long time, no see. C’mon and help me out, here.” The wolfish skull complied, drifting underneath his back and raising itself until he could push into a sitting position atop its head. He summoned a sharp bone and aimed it, and when it finally cut through the vine, he thankfully didn't fall. Then the blaster lowered him to the ground and he hopped off.

He was free, but he had no clue where he was in the forest. Whatever had attacked him could still be around. The tracks he'd made when he was being dragged in the snow were already starting to fill in. And he was scared.

He was scared that whatever had attacked him was the same being that had taken a sick interest in Papyrus. This couldn't be a coincidence. He had to hurry; his brother needed him.

\---

Papyrus stood anxiously by himself. Sans had long since disappeared into the snowstorm, and he was starting to get nervous. If he'd gotten lost…

“Howdy!”

Papyrus jumped and turned. Lo and behold, his friend was there, smiling at him. Papyrus noticed that his petals were slightly damp.

“It sure looks cold out there, huh?”

Papyrus nodded. “I thought I'd find you closer to the cavern. Were you just outside too?”

Flowey shook his head. “No, it was just raining where I was. Don't worry about it, a little rain is good for flowers!”

That _was_ true. Flowey flicked his petals, drops of moisture rolling off. “Anyway, you're here, so I guess you must not be feeling too good, huh?” He looked so friendly and sympathetic. Papyrus was immediately put at ease; how could he ever have doubted Flowey’s honesty? “Let's go to the cave, and we can talk about it.

Papyrus hesitated. “Well, I'm waiting for Sans. He was going back to the house to get my phone for me.”

Flowey gave Papyrus a look. “I told you, you don't need your phone for this. Just leave him a message in an echo flower or something.”

Papyrus sighed. “I’d feel bad about making him walk all that way for nothing.”

Flowey rolled his eyes. “Don’t enable his laziness, Papyrus. It’ll be good exercise.”

Eventually, Papyrus nodded. He leaned toward one of the gently whispering flowers and said, “Sans, I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'll see you back at home, I promise.” The blue flower softly repeated the message back to him. He straightened up, took a deep breath, and said, “Okay, I’m ready, Flowey.”

“Good! Let’s go, then.” The flower disappeared and rose up a few feet away to wait. Papyrus followed his friend. The walk was quick, and so was the Ferry ride; at this point, the trip was quite routine for Papyrus. Fortunately, routine had never dulled the beauty of the cave for him. As he reclined back onto the grassy ground, he briefly amused himself by finding the now familiar patterns in the ceiling.

Flowey settled in his usual position just behind Papyrus’s head, and finally broke the silence. “So, Papyrus, you know the drill. Go ahead,” he coaxed.

Papyrus nodded, took a deep breath, summoned his soul—it was easy for him now—and made himself comfortable. “Sans… said some things that concerned me earlier. About… well, about you.”

There was silence for a moment or two, and then Flowey replied, tone indicative of skepticism, “About me? Papyrus, he doesn’t know anything about me. He doesn’t know what we do here.”

Papyrus squirmed. “Um… it’s more that what he doesn’t know is concerning him. I may have told him that I was seeing someone who I talked to for therapeutic purposes, b-but other than that, I haven’t said anything.”

Flowey tsked. “Papyrus, that’s hardly _nothing_.”

“I-I’m sorry, Flowey. He wouldn’t leave me alone until I told him something,” Papyrus said, nervousness obvious in his voice.

The flower sighed. “Well, Papyrus, are _you_ concerned about my intentions?”

Papyrus quickly shook his head. “I know you’re only looking out for me. I’d… I’d be wrong to doubt you.”

“Yes, Papyrus. Now, if _you’re_ not worried, than don’t worry about it! Don’t let your brother’s paranoia infect your peace of mind.”

Papyrus sighed and nodded. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am! Now,” Flowey said, vines moving into position, “You still seem sort of upset, so I say we ought to go ahead with our therapy session.” He paused, and Papyrus could hear a smile in his voice. “You know what? I think it’s time we upped the number of sessions.”

Papyrus tensed. “A-are you positive about that?”

“Of course! I know you can handle it.” A pause. “What’s the matter, Papyrus?” A jolt of pleasure ran through the tall skeleton’s body as Flowey finally began to interact with his soul.

“Don’t you trust me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Arc words, man.
> 
> Papyrus, your bro's just trying to help. And now look what a mess y'all're in.
> 
> Cheers to angstwithtea for volunteering to beta this, given the last day or so. You're the best, friendo.


	8. Records, Breaking and Skipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, friends, it was hard for me to write this and get it read over.
> 
> There are some new tags, a new character, and a shiny new warning! (Don't check it if you don't want to be spoiled.)

“Hang in there, friend. How are you doing?”

Papyrus was a little too busy trying to breathe to answer. Flowey, not waiting for a response, continued to caress the skeleton’s soul. Papyrus’s hips bucked up, and he gasped before letting out a high, rattling moan. He’d quickly lost track of time, and it felt like this had been going on forever. He was losing himself to the sensations rippling throughout his body, making his pelvis tingle and his limbs shake.

The pace picked up. Papyrus wanted to grab onto something to ground himself, but the only thing he had was the vines grasping his hands, and as far gone as he was, he didn’t want to accidentally hurt his friend.

His mind was quickly going blank. A few more strokes and he arched his back—so hard that he could feel the vertebrae popping—and came, magic coming off him in waves. He went slack as it tapered off, but immediately began to writhe again, since Flowey continued to play with his soul. He shivered, causing his bones to audibly rattle, and the noise drew a giggle out of Flowey.

“Boy, you’re pretty wound up, huh? Just let go,” he cooed soothingly. “You need to relax for this to work.”

Papyrus stuttered out, “C-can I please have a break? It’s t-too much.”

Flowey tutted. “C’mon, I know you’re more resilient than that. We’ve done three sessions the last few times we’ve met. You’re not going to quit on me after two!”

The skeleton’s teeth chattered. “I-I almost p-passed out after th-three.”

Flowey laughed. “That’s the ultimate state of relaxation! Just ask your brother, he spends enough time sleeping to know.”

He continued to stroke and rub the surface of the soul, and casually added, “Speaking of your brother, I had a thought the other night about his whole drinking issue. Why do you think he does that, Papyrus?”

Thinking was getting increasingly harder for the tall skeleton, but he tried regardless. “H-he said that something had h-happened to him, s-something that I couldn’t —ahh—r-remember.”

Flowey smiled gently. “And what do you think that was?” When Papyrus shook his head to indicate his giving up, Flowey continued, “Well, what if he was upset for the same reasons you were?”

Papyrus must have looked as confused as he felt, because Flowey chuckled and clarified, “I mean, if he was being faced with constant patronization.”

“B-but everyone likes S-Sans,” Papyrus protested. “Who w-would be doing that?”

His friend hummed thoughtfully. “I can’t say that anyone comes to mind. It’s almost certainly someone in Snowdin. That way it would be someone he’d see all the time.”

Papyrus winced, suddenly getting a very bad feeling. Flowey continued speculatively, oblivious to Papyrus’s reaction. “It would wear anyone down to be told, day after day, how lazy they are, or how bad their jokes are. I’m surprised he’s not in worse condition, to be honest.”

“F-Flowey?”

“Mhm?”

“Y-you’re not talking about _m-me_ , are you?”

Flowey looked aghast. “Absolutely not! I would never say such things about my best friend. Have a little more faith in me, Papyrus.”

Papyrus was not reassured. Suddenly he began to think of all the times he’d chastised Sans for not being more proactive, or yelled at him for cracking jokes or leaving his station. Was Sans like this because of _him_? He’d thought he was a good brother, but…

Flowey wiped away some of Papyrus’s tears, which had begun to spill out of his sockets. He murmured sympathetically, “I understand, friend. It would hurt me if I knew someone was hurting _my_ sibling, too.”

Papyrus was running out of energy quickly, and the crying left him feeling even more drained, but he couldn’t seem to stop it. He felt tingly all over. Then, Flowey thrust a vine into his soul, and he kicked his legs out in shock.

“Relax, Papyrus. Breathe.”

“I c-can’t, I can't, just s-stop, please, I can't breathe—”

Flowey shushed him. “Just relax, and we’ll be done with it sooner.”

Papyrus writhed for a little longer as Flowey pumped the vine in and out, and a few moments later, he went stiff and came. He slumped and blinked wearily, his energy spent. He looked at Flowey, expression distinctly unhappy. “I t-told you to stop, why didn’t y-you stop?”

Flowey responded, in the same placating tone one would use with an unreasonable child, “Don’t be like that, friend. If I’d left you alone when you were so close, your body would’ve told you that it wasn’t enough. I keep telling you to relax, Papyrus. You’d enjoy it more if you did.”

Papyrus stared up at the ceiling wearily, the shivers wracking his body making the crystals look like they were dancing across the expanse of rock.

Flowey brushed a vine comfortingly down the back of Papyrus’s neck, causing him to shudder. Even the grass and rock beneath him felt like too much for his bones. “Relax,” the flower cooed quietly.

Papyrus shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “O-okay, I’ll relax.”

Flowey grinned. “Good, Papyrus! Remember, this is all for your benefit. I’m doing this for _you_.”

Then he stuck his vine back in Papyrus’s soul, causing the skeleton to yelp in surprise. He quickly forced himself to go lax and to not hold in his moans. Flowey skimmed a vine against the inside membrane of the soul, and Papyrus cried out, rolling over onto his side as much as the vines holding his hands would let him. Two more snaked out of the ground and grabbed his feet, moving him back onto his back. _Relax, just relax,_ Papyrus tried to focus on those words like it was a mantra. The more he tried to forget what was actually happening, the easier it was to focus on the feelings. God, he was already so close, he wasn’t going to last much longer—

The skeleton whimpered when Flowey withdrew the vine. He glanced up at his friend, who stared at him with a patient smile. “See, this is how it feels when I stop.”

It wasn’t so bad, but he was still tingling everywhere, and that made him sort of uncomfortable. His hips rolled up of their own accord as his body cried out for more stimulation. Papyrus flushed and acquiesced, “Alright, I underst-stand, okay? P-please…”

Flowey brushed a vine against his cheekbone. “Please what?”

Papyrus tried to make sense of the mixture of exhaustion and understimulation he was experiencing. The conflicting messages his body was sending him left him unsure of how he really felt. When Flowey tapped his cheek to remind Papyrus that he was still waiting, he started, then mumbled, “P-please touch my soul again.”

“Well,” the flower said, pausing to consider. Papyrus surprised himself with another whimper, but was even more surprised to see Flowey twitch in response. He looked down at Papyrus with a grin as wide as his face. “Since you asked so nicely.”

\---

Ice was starting to form in Sans’s joints. The energy humming through his bones had melted some of it, and then it had refrozen, making it hard for him to move. He’d lost track of both the time it was taking and the direction he was supposed to be heading in. Initially, he had used his blaster to look over the treetops, but ceased to do so once he realized he would expend too much energy and that the townsfolk would see a giant, flying skull and panic. With that, he was left to track the magical energy that coalesced in large populations of monsters. It was hard, though; the trails of other monsters, few as they were, lingered around him, and the town was faint.

He stumbled and forced himself to keep going. No one would know what happened to him if he fell down here. There was no one around. He’d… he’d die alone, and his brother still needed him.

Eventually, his exhaustion caught up with him, and he sat down underneath a pine, its broad bristled branches providing some cover from the harsh weather. He gazed up at the snow falling from the sky. He knew humans used to be able to navigate by the stars, but the clouds would’ve prevented any from shining. Oh, yeah, and there were no friggin’ stars down here.

Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of motion and stared hard at where he thought he’d seen it. Wait, there it was! He could make out a faintly flashing red light… a video camera! His smile would’ve gotten wider if it could’ve moved. The camera must have belonged to Alphys. He dug his phone out of his pockets with stiff fingers and punched in her number, praying that there was at least some cell reception out here. _One ring, two rings, three rings, four rings…_

“S-Sans? Is this y-you?”

 _Thank god. She doesn't always pick up._ “Yeah, it's me. Say, can you do me a favor and check all the cameras you've got in the Snowdin woods?”

“W-why?”

“Just humor me, Al.”

There was the sound of typing from the other end, followed by a small exclamation of surprise. “Oh, I can see you!”

Sans gave a wry wave to the camera. “So, I'm kinda lost. Do you think you could point me back home?”

“S-sure, but how did you g-get so far out into the woods? Y-you're a couple of miles away fr-from Snowdin, and you don’t really like to walk l-long distances… I m-mean, neither do I, but—”

“Al, you’re rambling. How do I get home?”

Alphys coughed awkwardly, then continued, “Alright. It’ll be k-kinda roundabout, but I can get you to the Ruins.”

“Great. I gotta hurry, though, so let’s go. Thanks for not givin’ me the _cold_ shoulder, Al.” Alphys laughed, the sound a sort of endearing, snorting chuckle.

Sans thanked… well, not his stars, but he thanked whoever had been listening. He needed to find his brother, and fast. Who knew what could be happening to him?

\---

Flowey, personally, was having a wonderful time. He looked down at his friend, writhing beneath him, both embarrassed and impatient. Flowey had decided the best way to drive his message home was to keep edging Papyrus and make him ask explicitly to continue. It was a fun game!

He could tell his friend was getting more exhausted the longer this went on. How much time had passed, anyway? _Well whaddya know, time really_ does _fly when you’re having fun!_

Papyrus spoke—sounding truly worn out—calling Flowey’s attention back to him. “P-please, Flowey, I understand what you mean, please, j-just don’t stop.”

The flower smiled benevolently. “Alright, I’ll let you finish; you’ve earned it, my friend.” With that, he stuck the vine back into Papyrus’s soul and picked up the pace right away. Papyrus’s moans were always amazing to hear; he loved that he could make his toy lose his composure like that.

Unfortunately, it looked like things were going to end soon. Papyrus couldn’t last much longer, given the state he was in. Hopefully they could work their way up to a few more orgasms in the future, but still, this was a moment for pride: it was a record-breaker!

Papyrus would have flailed if his limbs had been free to do so. He arched his back higher than Flowey had thought possible—he'd have to test how far he could make him bend one day—and came with a cry that dissolved into a pitiful whimper. Then he went lax and quiet, skull flopping sideways onto the ground.

Flowey waited for Papyrus to speak, but as a minute or so passed, Flowey grew bored and prodded the side of the skeleton’s skull.

“Papyrus, you gonna say anything?” No response. Flowey giggled—he'd actually gotten Papyrus to pass out. He regarded his toy fondly. The skeleton really needed to build up some stamina.

As he watched and waited, an idea struck him. Papyrus always seemed sensitive to touch after a session, so it stood to reason that perhaps a few touches in the right places could evoke a similar reaction to a few strokes of the soul. But would Papyrus even react to it while he slept?

Flowey raised a vine and snaked it under Papyrus’s shirt, caressing his front of his ribcage, and occasionally dipping under to rub along the other side. Slowly, slowly, he began to see an effect. Papyrus groaned soft and low, hips twitching slightly as the strokes got firmer.

Flowey felt ecstatic. A new way to avoid boredom! A new way to "help" his friend. He continued to rub at Papyrus's ribs while using a new tendril to gently grasp the skeleton's spine. Papyrus barely registered it, only shifting minutely. That changed when Flowey gripped more tightly and quickly stroked down. Papyrus gasped and whined, thrusting up into the air. Say, that gave Flowey another idea!

He left Papyrus's ribs alone, moving that vine down to the skeleton's pelvis. It slithered under the waistband of his pants—he was so glad he'd had the foresight to make Papyrus leave his armor at home—and began to rub gentle circles into the upper arches. Papyrus shivered, still letting out those amazing noises, and Flowey really hoped he wouldn't wake up any time soon; it would be harder to invent something about the "therapeutic" properties of the pelvis than it had been to lie about the soul.

The vine slipped down further to touch the inside walls, moving from area to area to see which spot got the best reaction out of his sleeping friend. To this end, he discovered that the bone in the center of the front of the pelvis fulfilled this purpose. Papyrus practically shouted when Flowey touched there, which startled him so much that he almost withdrew completely, sure that Papyrus had woken up. But no, he was still asleep. _He never ceases to be fascinating_ , Flowey mused, and moved his vine back toward Papyrus's waistband.

A flash of movement caught the flower's eye, realization catching up with him a few precious moments later, and he ducked underground just in time to avoid the wave of bones that was hurled at him. He popped up a little way away, and surveyed the cave to see where it had come from. There, at the entrance, slightly out of breath and his left eye bursting with blue flames, was Sans the Smiley Trashbag.

At first he looked shocked, which didn’t surprise Flowey. Sans only seemed to remember something from a previous timeline if the memory was triggered. " **You** ," he snarled, recognition obvious in his voice. "Buddy, you are going to have _such_ a bad time."

\---

Memories were flooding back, half-remembered and in such great amounts that they were overwhelming. Sans let them flow through his mind like water through a sieve; the general impression was enough to assure him that this guy was bad news.

He'd messed with them for countless timelines, killing Undyne or the lady from the Ruins or everyone in Snowdin or maybe just everybody in the Underground, and all because he was bored. And for reasons Sans couldn't fathom, he always loved to mess with Papyrus.

And... oh God, he'd been...

Sans felt sick. He aimed another group of bones, unsure where to fire them, as Flowey had disappeared into the darker edges of the cave. "Get back here, you goddamn coward. I'll fucking end you for touching my brother!"

"Language!" said a voice from behind Sans, causing Sans to jump and fling the projectiles behind him. Naturally, he missed.

"What's the matter, pal?" Now the voice was farther away. "Why would you attack an innocent little flower?"

Sans growled, "Don't you play _innocent_ with me." If he threw more bones at him, he'd just sink underground. He didn't bother turning the flower blue, knowing from experience that it wouldn't work. He had no clue why, but there was nothing to grab. Instead, he directed his magic through his feet and into the ground, where it solidified underground and—

There was a yelp as a wave of bones surged up from underneath the rocks and soil, forcing the flower to rapidly lengthen his stem to avoid the worst of the attack. A couple of bones still pierced the plant matter, but Flowey had the gall to smirk at him. "Gonna take more than that to put a dent in me, Trashbag!"

"Bring it on, _weed_."

\---

Papyrus was having a very odd dream. It wasn’t of anything in particular, per say, but rather one based off of feelings and emotions. It was the feelings that made it odd. The sensations he was experiencing were pleasant, but he didn’t know why he felt that way. Something told him that he should wake up. He attempted to return consciousness, but each time was dragged back down by deep exhaustion and a small inner voice that told him to just _relax_.

The feelings grew stronger, and it really was very nice, if he didn’t think about it. Then, all of a sudden, they stopped. He felt faint frustration, but again, he was unsure why. He could have sworn he heard yelling in the distance. He felt tense, and as the noises grew louder and tremors began to shake through him, he knew he had to _wake up. Wake up!_

“Papyrus, wake up! What did you _do_ to him, you son of a bitch?”

Papyrus slowly opened his eyes, still exhausted and now disoriented as well. The hand shaking his shoulder withdrew, and the taller skeleton registered a flash of light pass over his head. Then the hand was back, clutching at him and attempting to drag him away from where he lay. Then a strange yet somewhat familiar feeling overtook him. It was a few seconds before Papyrus recognized it: his soul had turned blue, and only one person aside from him knew how to do that.

“S-Sans?” He mumbled, groggy and uncertain. He was floating slightly above the ground, moving quickly through the air as his brother all but hurled him over to the exit of the cave. He stopped just short of hitting the edge of the opening, and dropped, relatively gently, onto the floor in a heap.

“Papyrus, listen to me,” Papyrus attempted to focus again, and his brother’s face came into his view. “You listening?”

Papyrus nodded, slowly growing more concerned at the urgency in his brother’s tone. Why was Sans here? He was fairly certain he hadn’t been here before— _oh_.

He remembered his sessions with Flowey. Why _was_ Sans here, and why did he seem so panicked? “Sans, what’s going on? Why are you here? _How_ are you here?”

Sans glanced over his shoulder, raising a wall of bones just in time to deflect a blow from an incoming vine. “I followed you, and I’m sorry, but you had _no idea_ what kind of shit was happening to you, and I couldn’t let it _stay_ that way.”

Papyrus blinked, upset. “You _followed_ me? Sans, I thought you trusted me more than that!”

“You’re missing the point!” Sans snapped. “That flower? He’s not your friend. He’s been taking advantage of you for God knows how long, and you have to get out of here while I take care of this.”

The barrier behind them shook as it was struck repeatedly. Papyrus felt even more confused than before. “I—I don’t understand! Flowey _is_ my friend. He never hurt me even once!”

“Yes he did, you just don’t understand how, and that’s my fault, I’ll admit it, I was a shitty brother on that point. You want me to trust you? Then trust me and leave!”

At that moment, the wall crumbled, and as a vine came rushing toward them, Sans grabbed his brother and—Papyrus suddenly felt an odd sort of lurch, and then he was collapsed on the other side of the cavern, Sans panting hard with a hand on his shoulder. “Wh-what was _that_?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sans said, still out of breath. Papyrus took a moment to look around; he couldn’t see Flowey anywhere. He did, however, see another mass of vines approaching them. Papyrus wasn’t stupid; he knew there could only be one reason as to why they were being attacked by living plant matter, but it wouldn’t connect. It just couldn’t— _Flowey wouldn’t do this... why_ is _he doing this? Why is he attacking Sans?_

The vines drew closer. “Flowey, please stop! I’m sorry if we upset you somehow, please, let’s just talk about this!”

“Papyrus, it’s pointless to reason with him! Just get out of the way!” Sans turned his soul blue and dragged him to relative safety, just narrowly dodging the group of tendrils nailing the wall right where his skull had been. Papyrus watched in mute horror as more vines continued to follow his brother, Sans either dodging or countering them with bones. He willed himself to move, but God, he was so tired. He began to crawl slowly toward the exit, body and conscience both screaming at him to stay. Papyrus didn’t know what to do, or who to believe.

All of a sudden, the strategist in him noted with intense clarity that Sans was getting backed into a corner. He was getting worn down, and he was putting more importance on drawing Flowey away from Papyrus than he was on making sure that he wouldn’t get trapped. Papyrus forced himself to stand up, and though it took a few tries, he rose on unsteady legs. He had to get to Sans, he had to protect his brother, he had to reason with Flowey, _he had to get to Sans._

Finally, Sans’s back hit the cave wall, and Papyrus could see the panic on his face. His body flickered briefly before returning to normal, and his brother’s fear seemed to increase tenfold. Papyrus saw a vine hurling toward his brother, and with speed he didn’t know was possible in his condition, threw himself between the smaller skeleton and the vine. Perhaps if Flowey saw him he’d stop and they could talk and everything would be o—

He felt intense pain in his neck before everything went dark.

\---

Flowey and Sans both stared in shock at the pile of dust between them.

The flower spoke first, anger apparent in his voice and increasing in intensity. “You know that this is completely your fault, right?”

Sans sunk to his knees, staring blankly in front of him and shaking minutely. Flowey continued on, oblivious to Sans’s growing horror, “I put a lot of effort into today, and you ruined it! Now I have to do this _all over again!_ ”

Flowey grabbed Sans around the neck with a dust-covered vine. “I hope all this interfering was worth it. If you remember any of this, you had _better think twice before you mess with me._ ” Sans remained limp in his grip, not struggling or crying or anything interesting. It infuriated Flowey. He raised the vine and whipped it, smashing Sans’s skull into the cave wall. The dust gently floated to the ground.

Flowey brooded. Killing that dumpy little skeleton just didn’t really hold much satisfaction anymore. He’d have to think up something good for the Trashbag’s next death... something befitting this transgression.

As his anger cooled, he took in the piles of dust scattered before him. He had to process the series of events logically—as he always did when something went wrong. How did Sans even know where they were? Had he followed them? That made sense, he’d thought he’d heard Papyrus shout something about that from behind the bone wall. He sighed in annoyance; it was torture to repeat anything, and as much as he enjoyed today, he didn’t want to do it again. Not yet, and not like that, anyway. Now he’d have to try and prevent this whole series of events, starting from beginning of the day. Where to begin? 

Dust still lingered in the air, forming a disgusting cloud around him. It was time to go.

**FILE LOADED.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Consider this the end of Act One.


	9. Once Bitten, Twice Shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ==> You think this all seems very familiar.
> 
> Previous events happen again, but differently due to a few timely interventions.

Papyrus woke up with an intense crick in his neck, which puzzled him. He normally slept straight as a rod, so there was no way he could have twisted his vertebrae while he slept. Well, he wasn’t going to let a small pain in the neck keep him in bed! He got up and was about to dress for the day when he heard something thump against the side of the house, causing him to jump. He peered out the window and saw that it was nothing but a tree branch thrashing about in the wind and… snow? A _lot_ of snow. It seemed a powerful blizzard was brewing.

Still, storm or no storm, he’d brave the tough conditions. He was a sentry! People depended on him, and who was he to let them down? _Well,_ said a nagging inner voice, _at least you thought they relied on you._ He frowned to himself, and looked out the window at the harsh weather. Maybe… maybe he could afford to take a day off. He still felt tired, if he was completely honest with himself.

Instead of his battle body, he put on a t-shirt and some jeans. He’d grown a little accustomed to wearing casual clothing as of late, enough to get an appreciation for it. There was no harm in putting away his armor if he wasn’t going outside. He didn’t want snow to get stuck in it and cause it to rust, anyway.

He plodded downstairs, taking his time for once. He looked outside through the front window, and to his surprise, the snow was already halfway to the bottom of the sill. No one seemed to be walking the streets, and he didn’t blame them. He turned around and headed into the kitchen to boil some water for coffee. He normally only made it for Sans, but ever since he began his therapy sessions with Flowey, he’d begun to sneak some for himself. He’d felt abnormally tired and the caffeine helped perk him up enough to at least simulate his old level of energy. If Sans had noticed, he’d said nothing.

He’d been so busy tending to the coffeepot that when he’d first heard a thudding noise, he merely assumed it was more tree branches. As it became more insistent, he realized that it was coming from the _front_ of the house, close to the door. He took the pot off of the stove to prevent the coffee from burning, and then made his way over to the door. Before he could open it to see who’d been crazy enough to brave the storm, the knocking sounded again, but from the window. He glanced over and then did a double-take. Flowey was there, a vine raised to the panes of glass.

He stood and stared for a moment, long enough that Flowey rolled his eyes and beckoned him over. Papyrus hurried to the window and unlatched it, wincing as cold air and some snow blew in. Flowey grabbed onto Papyrus’s arm with his extended vine and wrapped himself around it, an action that was still relatively new to Papyrus. Once the flower was finished, he motioned to Papyrus to close the window. The skeleton complied, glad to shut away a chill so intense that even he could feel it. 

Flowey looked around, a strange expression on his face, before shaking snow off his petals, turning to Papyrus and smiling. “Howdy, Papyrus. What a storm, right?” 

Papyrus nodded. “Indeed. What made you decide to go out into it?” Flowey pressed a leaf to his mouth, and Papyrus lowered his voice. “Even I, the Great Papyrus, wasn’t planning on leaving my home!” 

The flower chuckled softly. “Is that so?” Before Papyrus could answer, he continued, “Oh, you know, I just felt like taking a stroll, appreciating the weather… “ He couldn’t prevent himself from rolling his eyes. “Most importantly, I wanted to talk to you!” Papyrus opened his mouth to thank his friend for stopping by, but the flower interrupted. “Specifically about the validity of your seemingly easily-given trust in others.” 

Papyrus felt mostly confused, but could feel apprehension creeping up on him. Flowey pressed on, “What I mean to say is that I found something out the other night and I figured you had the right to know. You might wanna sit down.” 

Papyrus looked at Flowey, the flower’s expression solemn, and grew concerned enough to make his way over to the couch and take a seat. The flower patted the skeletal arm consolingly for a moment. “I mean, really, you’d think that given your problems with him in the past, you’d be once bitten, twice shy.” 

Papyrus cocked his head. Slowly, he asked, “Is… is this about Sans?” 

Flowey smiled, all sickly sweetness, and then, quite bluntly, said, “Your brother has been following you around.” 

Papyrus stared, taken aback. “What?” 

Flowey sighed to himself, looking morose, “He’s been following you to our sessions. Talk about trust issues, rights? It’s like he won’t let you out of his sight! Like you’re some kind of small, stupid child.” 

The skeleton balked, visibly growing more upset with each sentence. “He’s been following me? Are you positive?” 

Flowey kept his expression neutral. “Yeah, he must have waited up last night for you to leave, and then followed you to the cave. I caught a glimpse of him as he left.” 

Papyrus turned, staring distantly at the floor. Flowey chattered on, ignoring Papyrus’s apparent shutdown. He knew he’d be heard. “I honestly don’t understand what his problem is. He hides his drinking from you, but insists on knowing all of _your_ secrets! What kind of brother does that?” 

Papyrus glanced at the flower. “...do you think he’s upset with me?” 

Flowey snorted. “For what? _Neither_ of us is doing anything wrong. He’s just being nosy and paranoid.” 

Papyrus sighed and wearily rubbed at his eye sockets. “You're right. He just still sees me as a kid.” The skeleton let out a frustrated groan. 

Flowey watched him for a moment, then spoke quietly, sounding suddenly businesslike. “Well, now we need a new location to meet up. I know a clearing in the woods near the Ruins. Meet me at the old locked door in a day or two and I'll guide you the rest of the way. And for God’s sake, make sure you're not being followed this time. Walk backwards if you have to.” 

Papyrus nodded absently, but then did so once more with conviction when Flowey firmly squeezed his arm with his vines. “Good, Papyrus. Now, please take me to the window. I'd love to stay, but I should leave before your brother wakes up. It's been real fun to chat with you!” 

Once Flowey was gone, Papyrus sat back down on the couch with a thud. He honestly didn't know what to do with the new information his friend had told him. Unfortunately, Sans chose that moment to leave his room. 

\---

Sans woke up with a yelp, a pounding headache, and the distinct impression that he’d been having a nightmare, despite not remembering falling asleep. He clutched his skull, trying to recall the details of the dream, but they eluded him. It was as useless as trying to hold water in his hands. Then he remembered _why_ he hadn’t had much sleep, and his headache got significantly worse. 

He’d followed Papyrus to his “meeting with a friend”, and… he was not convinced that Papyrus knew what was actually going on. His brother was one of the most innocent adults he’d ever known—that was _his_ fault, he’d admit that… he’d just never been comfortable with the idea of giving Paps the Talk—and if he’d learned anything from anyone else, he’d never given any indication of it. He’d always trusted his instincts before, and he had no reason not to now. If Papyrus did know and came back looking uncomfortable anyway, there would _still_ be a problem. 

There was no more avoiding it—he’d have to go talk to Papyrus about this. He couldn’t, in good conscience, allow someone to keep taking advantage of his brother. He laid in bed for a little while longer, gathering the strength to get up, when he heard something odd. It sounded like Papyrus was talking, but he couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying or who he was having a conversation with. Was he talking to himself? He did that sometimes, but not often enough to be weird. It was with that curiosity that Sans finally dragged himself out of bed to get dressed. 

By the time he had all his clothes on, Papyrus had stopped talking. Nevertheless, Sans braced himself and walked out into the hall. He yawned, glanced down at his younger brother, and was surprised to see that he was _brooding_. Papyrus didn’t sulk, it just wasn’t his style. A moment passed, and then Papyrus looked up at him. That expression… he couldn’t really find the words to describe it. Cautiously, he spoke up. “Hey, bro.” 

Papyrus was silent for a bit, looking his brother up and down, and then sighed quietly. “There’s still some coffee in the pot, but you might have to reheat it.” 

In that moment Sans, felt an intense wave of déjà vu that he couldn’t quite place. His brother made him coffee all the time, but that couldn’t be why. “Papyrus,” he asked, concern creeping into his voice, “Is something wrong?” 

The taller skeleton hesitated, before murmuring, “You should go have your coffee, brother. Go on, it’ll get cold.” He stayed on the couch, his head held stiffly in place and eyes closed. 

Sans descended to the ground floor, still regarding Papyrus with concern. He wondered if something bad had happened last night, after he left— _like a coward, he should have stayed and intervened... God, what if something bad happened and it was his fault for not stopping it?_

Papyrus remained quiet on the couch, so Sans descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen. He'd need his coffee to process everything that happened, anyway. 

The smaller skeleton returned shortly after, sitting next to his brother on the couch. He quietly sipped his coffee, wondering if he should speak or wait for Papyrus to talk. Something was clearly bugging the taller skeleton. 

“Sans?” 

_Alright, here we go_ , thought said skeleton. 

"How much do you think trust and respect is related?” 

_What?_ Sans hadn't really seen that one coming. He pondered for a minute, slightly anxious about the question which had seemingly come from nowhere. “Well, uh, I suppose it depends. I don't normally trust people I don't respect, but that's just me. Why?” 

Papyrus winced, but otherwise didn't hesitate. “It breaks my heart to know that you don't respect or trust me. I'm really disappointed, Sans.” 

The smaller skeleton reeled like he'd been slapped, nearly choking on his coffee. “Wh… what are you _talking_ about? _Of course_ I respect you, man; you know that, right? You're my brother, and I love you.” 

Quietly, Papyrus said, “I know that you followed me, Sans.” 

_Uh oh._ “You're not making any sense, Papyrus. Why would I be following you around?” _How did he know?_

Papyrus gritted his teeth. “You followed me to my meeting with my friend. I don't understand why you don't trust me, and why you can't seem to respect my privacy!” He stood up from the couch and began to pace. “I don't spy on _you_.” 

Sans didn't see a huge point in lying anymore. He just needed to salvage the situation. He placed the coffee pot on the ground beside him. “Paps, bro, I'm just really worried about you. You disappear for hours on end and come back tired and uncomfortable. Honestly, what kind of _friend_ are you seeing that makes you feel like that?” 

“What kind of brother are you for demanding that I be constantly attached to you at the hipbone? I'm allowed to have a life! Where do you get off prying into my business?” 

Sans blustered. “Hell, Papyrus, do you think I'd be concerned if I _liked_ what I saw?” He cringed at the memory. He could die happy if he never had to hear that again. 

Papyrus’s expression softened from disappointed petulance to bemusement. “There's nothing to like or dislike. He's just helping me get through some tough times. It's reasonable to be upset, you know, when you find out that people have been babying you and lying to you for God knows how long!” 

Sans wanted to deny the claims, but to be completely honest, Papyrus was undoubtedly right. The lies about drinking and wanting to preserve Papyrus’s innocence were what sparked this mess in the first place. 

“I understand that you're upset, and I acknowledge my part in it. I'm trying to make it better, I really am, and…that's why I followed you,” he finished, somewhat lamely. 

“I'm not sure there's a correlation there. Good intentions or no, it was still an invasion of my privacy.” Papyrus looked weary again. Sans knew he didn't like to fight, and here Sans was, making everything worse… as usual. 

“Just… I mean, do I even know this person you're seeing? If it's been going on for this long, I'm surprised you haven't brought him over or something. You don't show your soul to just any old friend.” 

Papyrus looked at his brother quizzically. “What are you—” 

He was suddenly interrupted by Mettaton’s theme song, of all things, blaring out from his pocket. Sans was, for all intents and purposes, bewildered by this turn of events. Papyrus flushed, glanced at Sans as if to say _one moment, please_ , fumbled inside and brought out his cellphone, pressing the button to answer and then holding it to the side of his skull. “Hello, you've reached Papyrus the Skeleton!” 

\---

“HEY, PUNK!” Papyrus immediately moved the phone away from his head due to the volume. 

“Undyne! How are you? Wowie, we haven't talked in awhile.” He drummed his phalanges on the side of his leg. Feeling the need to move, he picked up the abandoned coffee pot, moving it to the kitchen as Undyne spoke. 

“Yeah, I know, and that's totally unacceptable! Seriously, Papyrus, I expected a call or a text or something! You were supposed to get back to me about that pizza lesson, and to be real, you could've called for any reason.” Papyrus attempted to interject, but was immediately cut off. “Well, no more: I order you, as your Captain, to get your bony butt over to my house. We've got some serious cooking to do!” 

“Undyne, there’s a raging blizzard outside.” 

“No excuses,” she barked, “Are you the Great Papyrus or aren't you?” 

Said skeleton sighed, exasperated but finding the display endearing. “Yes, Undyne.” 

“Yes _what_ , sentry?” 

He rolled his eyes, attempting to suppress a smile. “Yes, I am the Great Papyrus!” He couldn't quite match his old zeal, but it wasn't really necessary. This much would do. 

“Good. See you soon, bonehead!” She hung up, leaving Papyrus to grumble over the pun. 

He turned to leave and glanced over to find Sans staring at him with concern. As he bustled about, grabbing a coat and bundling up deeper into his scarf, he explained, “Undyne has ordered me to come over to her house, and I cannot refuse a direct order.” 

Sans’s jaw dropped. “You’re not going out in _that_ , Papyrus, you’ll get blown off a cliff!” He moved to block off the door, but Papyrus was there faster, so Sans grabbed onto his younger brother’s arm instead. “We were kind of in the middle of a serious conversation, Paps.” 

The taller skeleton grimaced. “I think that if I don't come over she'll try to brave the storm, freeze to death, and _then_ drag me back to her place. You know how determined she can be.” 

Sans’s shoulders slumped. Clearly he understood that there could be no arguing. “At least let me go with you to the entrance of Waterfall. I don’t want you out alone in this weather. 

Papyrus nodded. “Fine.” He briefly allowed worry to flicker over his features. “But then won’t you be alone on your way back?” 

Sans shrugged, and gave a small, lazy grin. “It’s fine, bro. I know a shortcut.” 

\---

After making it through the storm, both brothers could agree that the prospect of a trip to Undyne’s house—which was slightly lengthy, even by Papyrus’s standards—seemed trivial. Even so, it was still shorter than a trip to the Ruins, which, Papyrus remembered, was where he would now have to go in order to have his sessions with Flowey. Those sessions… _hmm_.

The taller skeleton turned to his brother, not being able to help but stare as he contemplated the earlier conversation. Sans finished brushing some snow off of his jacket, turned, and noticed how Papyrus was looking at him. “What’s wrong?” 

Papyrus shook his head. “It’s nothing important.” He decided to cover it up with some of his usual japery. “I was merely checking to make sure that your joints had not frosted together. You move so little, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” 

Sans rolled his eyelights in his sockets and held a hand to his chest in mock offense. “You can’t say that after I just slogged through _hail_ and back to see you here safely. Real _cold_ of you, bro.” 

Papyrus swatted at his brother, who dodged with ease. He hadn’t put much heart into the swing, what with Sans’s frailty and the fact that he was still thinking about what he had said before, about showing your soul to someone. 

The smaller skeleton scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck. “So, I guess I should head home? Or did you want me to walk with you to Undyne’s? 

Papyrus sighed. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m not a babybones, remember?” 

Sans held his hands up in surrender. “I get it, man. Look, I’m just watching out for you. And you know,” he hesitated for a moment, “we still need to finish our conversation when you get home, okay? It’s… it’s kind of long overdue, anyway.” 

The younger brother regarded his older sibling, a mixture of fondness and frustration coursing through him. “Yes, Sans, I understand. I don’t want to be late, though. Get home safely, please.” 

Sans nodded. “You too. Shoot me a text when you get there and then when you’re about to leave, okay?” When Papyrus turned to head in the opposite direction, he reiterated, “You hear me? I could care less if you’re five or fifty, either way I’d want to know.” 

Papyrus raised a hand in acknowledgement, and both brothers headed their separate ways. In a nearby clump of echo flowers, a short golden flower lurked, unnoticed by either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating before now. I think my schedule will have updates happening only once a week, or possibly slower. I've got an influx of work to do. That's not to say I'm stopping! I wouldn't leave you guys hanging. I'm just asking for some patience. Things should wind down in a month or so, and then maybe I'll have more time to write.
> 
> Also, if you want to drop by, my tumblr username is articypher. Come say hi! I'm always up for a chat.


	10. A Pizza Your Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A skeleton and a fish have some good, clean(?), old-fashioned cooking fun battling the worthy foe that is pizza. Enjoy a happy chapter (for once)!

The trip to Undyne’s house passed uneventfully enough, giving Papyrus some time to reflect on his thoughts. What had Sans meant when he said that you didn’t just show your soul to anybody? Of course, no one had ever asked to see his before Flowey had, so that statement sort of made sense. But he was filled with a nagging sense of discomfort. He and Sans were close, and Sans hadn’t asked to see his soul. The same with him and Undyne. The very notion hadn’t ever even crossed Papyrus’s mind before Flowey brought it up. What did it all mean?

Papyrus reached the now familiar docks and began to walk across them, the old wood creaking softly under his footsteps and the luminescent water gently lapping beneath that. He passed the Ferry, with whom he was now on friendly terms, and it turned to watch as he went by. “Three gold for the ferry?”

It sounded curious and hopeful, and Papyrus stopped for a moment. “No, not today. Sorry!” He gave it a small, guilty smile, and received a disappointed pout. Papyrus supposed it had become accustomed to him as well. “I’ll come see you on the way back!” It nodded, its little grin reappearing at the prospect of being stepped on. _How odd_ , Papyrus thought as he walked away. He then scolded himself, supposing he was being rude to judge.

He walked over small, burbling streams, gently declined the small bird’s offer to carry him across one of the larger ones—he would weigh the bird down too much and it would take forever, and therefore it was much more simple to just jump the gap—and soon found himself in front of Undyne’s home. He waved to the dummy nearby, which acknowledged him with a grunt. Undyne loved to practice with it, but Papyrus preferred not to hit something that could not hit back. He was a skeleton with standards!

He finally went up to the door, but before he could knock, it opened up. Papyrus didn't even have time to yelp in surprise as Undyne grabbed him by the waist and dragged him inside. She pulled him in for an almost rib-cracking hug, fiercely rubbing her knuckles into the top of his skull as she did so. “Ah! Undyne, stop—argh, mercy! Don’t noogie the skeleton!”

After a few more painful moments, during which he tried his best to withstand the violent affection, Undyne released him. Gasping for air, Papyrus smiled weakly at her. Undyne beamed at him in turn. “What's up, Papyrus? It's been forever! I had no one to obliterate my meal-enemies with.”

“It's really only been a week or two, Undyne. And I'm sure you have other friends than me,” he added, a little gloomily. “I mean, you're so cool, after all!”

Undyne rolled her eye. “Thanks, knucklehead, but the kitchen is a battlefield, and it's good to have someone to watch your back. You're one of like, the two monsters I trust enough for that!”

Papyrus’s magic welled up in the form of a blush on his cheekbones. “Wowie, that's really nice of you.” He thought for a moment. “Who's the other monster?”

Now it was Undyne’s turn to flush, glancing away with a small smile. Papyrus gave her a knowing look, and she began to stammer. “What!? They're just… b-bruises, yeah! I was doing, uh, headbutting practice. I mean, cheekbutting practice! No, wait, that sounds weird. Ngahhh, wipe that grin off your face, punk, I’m _not_ blushing!”

Undyne really was cool; she had a way with words that even he sometimes couldn’t match. Papyrus tried to turn his expression sly to neutral. “Of course not, Undyne. So you said you wanted to make pizza?”

Undyne looked slightly less flustered now that the subject had changed. She grinned, showing off her large, crooked incisors—Papyrus knew from experience that they were big and strong enough to cleave a stack of instant noodles in two, and wasn't _that_ a night to remember—and cheerfully responded, “You bet! I’m going to learn you some hardcore pizza-making skills. C’mon, Papyrus, our training field awaits!”

The tall skeleton allowed himself to be led over to the kitchen counter. It was a decent cooking space, if if you discounted the occasional large dent and multiple scratches marring the surface. He glanced upward; _Oh, look, Undyne had gotten that scorch mark out of the ceiling!_ He’d have to ask what cleaning products she used—

“ALRIGHT!” Undyne announced, startling Papyrus out of his thoughts. “When it comes to pizza, there’s only one thing you’ve got to remember: pizza starts with ‘P’, which rhymes with ‘B’, and that stands for ‘BRUTAL’! You gotta make this pizza your bi—” she glanced at Papyrus, who was giving her his best ‘language’ face, “uh, bitter rival, and then, you gotta show it who’s boss. YEAH!”

Undyne punched through the wall above the counter, and as Papyrus wiped plaster dust and small pieces of wood off of his clothing, Undyne pulled her splinter-pierced hand out, grasping a weathered bag of flour. She grinned triumphantly at him, and then reached back in with the enthusiasm of a berserker disemboweling its enemy. She brought out a few crumpled packets of yeast, a bottle of olive oil that had seen better days, and salt and sugar from the newly formed hole.

Seeing the questioning look on Papyrus’s face, she grunted, “Now no one’s ever gonna be able to raid my pantry again.” The skeleton winced apologetically, recalling that one fateful party oh so long ago. To be truthful, Sans would still probably be able to get at whatever various goodies Undyne was hiding in her walls. He loved pranking people, time and space be darned. He wisely decided to say nothing.

Undyne turned back to the counter, and Papyrus contemplated moving behind her to peer over her shoulder before remembering how dangerous her elbows could be while she was engaged in her cooking. He moved to the side instead, studiously watching her every move.

“We start out with the flour, of course. Several fistfuls should do it!” She grabbed several handfuls of the powder, some of it leaking out from between her fingers and onto the counter, tossed what remained into a nearby bowl and waved away the hovering white cloud that resulted from her actions. She mixed the yeast with little incident, fortunately, and added that into the clump of flour, followed by slightly more than a pinch of salt. Undyne had always an advocate of measuring by eye, which sometimes produced entertaining results. “Now, we gotta mix them together. You know that drill, Papyrus! As the wise, spandex-clad battle sages used to say: _Maximum effort!_ ”

Papyrus took the proffered bowl and spoon and began stirring vigorously, causing even more flour to puff up in his face. He coughed to the side, briefly ceasing his mixing, and Undyne yelled, “C’mon, Papyrus, don’t wimp out on me now! Don’t let your enemy get away with using such a cheap trick to halt your advance!” Quickly dusting some flour from his eye sockets, he resumed his stirring, and soon, there was a sticky mess of dough clinging to the bowl and more than a few blotches of it splattered on both chefs like wheaty freckles.

“Yeah! You’re on fire, Papyrus!” Undyne cheered. Papyrus set the bowl down, wiping away some of the mess. He ought to have put on an apron. Even the _Bone-afide Chef_ one Sans had gotten him would have done the job.

“Now,” Undyne said, ready to continue, “normally one would let the dough ‘rest’, but I say that that's bull! If we're working hard, it should be working hard too! So we're gonna knead the dough into submission. Allow me to demonstrate this highly advanced technique!” Undyne rubbed her hands together, and then began brutally pounding at the dough inside the bowl. Papyrus winced in sympathy, listening to the gooey squishes queasily. Undyne's fists were flying so fast that he almost couldn't see them; they had become a teal blurr.

Finally, the movements slowed, and Papyrus gazed upon the finished product; an almost liquid mass, half of it clinging to Undyne’s knuckles and the other half slowly oozing out of the now cracked bowl. Undyne, panting, wiped the dough—batter?— off herself before rummaging in a drawer for a pan to pour the liquid in.

When that mess was finally sorted out, Undyne produced a variety of staple vegetables, the tomatoes placed at the forefront with the importance of sacrificial lambs. “Pizza sauce and pasta sauce are like twins! Practically no difference between the two. You know what to do Papyrus, chop-chop!” Papyrus gave her a pointed look, but she shrugged him off. He raised his straightened hands above the hapless veggies before swinging them down like guillotine blades. With a series of precise chops that would make a karate master weep—his strength was formidable, but his technique was abominable—he brutalized the ingredients until they formed a chunky paste, unfortunately (but not surprisingly) losing a good amount of it to the wall. He then grabbed a rubber spatula and scraped it off and into a new bowl, as the old one had given up the ghost halfway through the kneading.

Papyrus tipped the bowl over the sticky dough, spooning the paste onto it and spreading it around. Undyne finished off the lesson by shredding the cheese with her spears and then adding it to the barely solid mass in the pan. It appeared that they would be having a deep dish pizza, in the end. Papyrus wasn't incredibly picky, so it didn't matter.

After securely trapping the pizza in the oven and cranking up the heat to frankly hazardous levels, the two of them began to engage in the long and arduous process of cleaning up. Papyrus didn't mind; cleaning was second nature to him after all his time living with Sans. He was just pleased to have been able to spend time with Undyne. To be honest, he felt guilty, since he had hardly thought of her during the time he'd been having sessions with Flowey. Speaking of which…

Undyne spoke as she worked, breaking him from his reveré. “Man, I feel like it's been ages since we've done something like this. Where have you been?”

Papyrus rubbed his cervical vertebrae, feeling awkward. He didn't want to tell his friend that he’d been spending time with someone else as opposed to her. He wouldn't want to drive her away. “Just… around, I suppose. I've been in Waterfall a lot. Definitely by myself. With, uh, no one else.” Undyne quirked an eyebrow, fixing him with her best _Really?_ look. “What about you?” He figured he should try to switch topics. “Have you been spending time with anyone?”

Undyne nodded and gave him a small but toothy grin. “You didn't come by, so I invited Alphys over a bunch! Watched some quality anime together! Look at me, she’s turning me into some kinda history nerd,” she grumbled playfully.

“So, would you say that you two are _very_ close?” Papyrus asked, gathering his courage.

Undyne blushed and looked away, “Yeah, I guess so. She's pretty great...for a nerd!”

“Is she the kind of person you would show your soul to?”

Immediately, Undyne blustered, dropping the bowl she was cleaning and flushing even deeper than before. “ _Papyrus!_ ” She sounded scandalized; Papyrus’s own cheekbones began to rapidly gain color, a deep embarrassment he couldn't quite place taking hold of him. “Where did that even _come_ from? It's none of your business, punk!”

The skeleton rushed to explain himself. “I'm _sorry_ , it's, well, it's just that… someone keeps… Well, I don't really know what that even means! Is there some sort of special connotation behind it?”

Undyne stared at him for a long, awkward moment before sighing exasperatedly. “Papyrus,” she said, slowly and with disbelief, “are you seriously telling me that you're—what, twenty?—almost twenty and you don't know what it means to show someone your soul?”

If it were possible for Papyrus to flush any harder, he would have. “No… I’m guessing it does, then. Can you tell me? I need to know… for, um—for a friend.”

Undyne rubbed her forehead. “You, uh… you sure you don't want to ask your brother about it instead?”

Papyrus shook his head emphatically. He needed to know, and he needed to know now. Not to mention that he was afraid of how Sans might respond, given his reaction earlier.

“Alright, then… Papyrus, when two monsters—in many cases—are in a serious relationship, romantic or otherwise, they will show each other their souls as a sign of their bond and trust. It shows a willingness to form a long-term commitment to please their partner, or partners. If those monsters decide that they want to have a child, they will allow their souls to interact, and their combined energy will incubate inside the soul of whichever parent has the strongest magic signature. How long it takes for the child to be born depends on its parentage.”

She broke off, staring at the skeleton. “Did that answer your question?”

“Papyrus?”

\---

Undyne had been slightly uncomfortable before, what with Papyrus’s blunt yet well-meaning question. But now? Sure, Papyrus was pretty innocent, but she figured that Sans must have told him at some point. He couldn't have been _that_ lazy, right?

But it turns out that he was—how had Papyrus never learned it in school?—and now Undyne had to be the one to fill in the blanks for the taller skeleton. She thought that they'd be having some light-hearted chatter, but nope. It had been time for the Talk.

She watched as Papyrus stood a little way away from her, lost in thought with an odd, almost queasy expression. Suddenly, something Papyrus said struck her with the force of a thousand gigantic swords, and she clenched her claws into her cleaning rag. “You said something about someone who kept doing something, and then you asked me about souls. Has someone been asking to see your soul, Papyrus?”

Papyrus continued to stare at the floor, looking more lost and confused than she had ever seen him, and that _really_ worried her. “Underground to Papyrus, come in, soldier!”

He started, briefly met Undyne’s eyes, and then looked away, shaking his head. “No, no one. Don't worry, Undyne, I was—I was just curious.”

Before Undyne could say anything else, the smell of burning bread wafted over to them. Papyrus started, then, suddenly cheery, he quite loudly proclaimed, “It seems that the pizza is ready!” He strode over to the oven, opened its door, and took out the pan. Undyne winced emphatically before remembering that the heat barely bothered him. The pizza mixture appeared to have boiled and _then_ burned. At least it still _smelled_ somewhat appealing.

Papyrus stared at it for a moment longer, expression unreadable. Then, he turned to Undyne, a shaky, apologetic smile on his face. “Whoopsy doopsy, I just remembered that I have to go… uh… iron a dog! I'll see you later, Undyne, thank you for the lesson; I hope you enjoy the pizza. Bye!” He didn't jump out the window, opting instead to take the door and spurning his usual dramatics and near flawless acrobatics.

“Papyrus, get your butt back here. Papyrus!”

He didn't come back. Something was definitely up, and it worried Undyne. Thoughts of some predator messing with Papyrus were going to haunt her if she didn't do something about it.

She bit her lip, hesitating, before picking up her cellphone and dialing a number affectionately labeled, ‘FUCKING DEAD TO ME’. It rang for a few moments before being picked up, and before he even spoke, she could hear the smug smile. “Heya, Captain. Miss me?”

Undyne glowered to herself. “No.”

“Did Paps convince you to revoke my banishment?”

“No! Get a grip, this is serious. This is about Papyrus, and goddamnit, I'm pretty worried about him.”

Immediately, she felt the atmosphere drop. Sans spoke quietly a few moments later. “... I am too. Did he tell you anything? He wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't listen to me...”

Undyne cradled the phone with her shoulder as she opened a window to let out the burnt pizza smell. “Okay, first off, you owe me, because _I_ just had to give him the Talk. Secondly, he insinuated that someone’s been asking to see his soul.”

Sans swore. “I was going to talk to him when he got home. Where is he right now?”

Undyne ground her fangs in frustration. “I don't know. After I told him, he made some bullshit excuse and ran off. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

The line was quiet for a moment. “I think so. If he's not there, I'll give you another call, and we can bring in the cavalry. I have a bad feeling about all of this.”

Now it was Undyne’s turn to swear. “You bring him home safe, okay? I couldn't stand it if something happened to him… if something’s _been_ happening and we haven't done anything…”

Sans’s voice had a dark undertone to it. “I won't let anything happen to him. If someone's been taking advantage of him, they will seriously regret it. Stay by your phone.”

There was a click, and Sans hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things 'bout to get intense, so buckle up.
> 
> I reference an events that doesn't happen in the story multiple times. Basically what happens is that there is a late night gathering in which Papyrus, Undyne, and Alphys bet on who can bite through the biggest stack of instant noodles (Sans was there but didn't participate, lazy ass). Undyne won, but Alphys might have beaten her if she hadn't gotten embarrassed and forfeited. After everyone else went to bed, Sans raided Undyne's pantry, emptied it of spider pastries, and then tried to pass the blame onto the annoying dog in the morning. Sans is now temporarily banned for Undyne's house.
> 
> I can write this, if you want.


	11. Premonition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A skeleton sets a new running record, a flower ponders over an unfolding series of events, a panicking brother is misled, and finally, the true intentions are revealed.

Papyrus breezed through the Waterfall at an impressive pace, even for someone with legs as long as his. He jumped streams and dodged errant stalagmites, and he even went past the Ferry without stopping to ride it as he’d promised. He told himself that he would apologize later; right now, he had more pressing matters.

When he finally made his way out of the cave systems, the storm buffeted him back, his feet skidding on patches of ice that had formed at the edge of the entrance. The blizzard was raging with no sign of stopping, and even though it seemed that it had died down a little since he’d gone to Undyne’s, clumps of snow were getting caught in his joints, slowing him down. Still, that didn’t matter to him; he had to find Flowey. He needed to speak to him.

Before long he made it to Snowdin, racing through the town with little trouble; everyone was in their homes, so he didn't have to worry about anyone stopping him on the way for a chat—it would surely be pleasant, but it would ultimately delay him. Time was of the essence. If he didn't confirm this now, it would torment him every time he saw his friend. He felt a shiver race down his spine as he recalled what Undyne had told him about the… therapy.

He continued expeditiously to the beginning of the woods and ran on without stopping. Exhaustion seemed a stranger he'd yet to meet, as though the tiredness he had felt so often as of late was but a distant memory. He plowed through mounds of fluff as high as his waist; the forest, while still inhabited by monsters, was not walked through as often as the town, and could be a puzzle in its own right when it snowed. He might step on a patch of ice hidden by fluffy frost, or fall into a ditch and sink down into the soft powder until he was neck-deep. Still, he soldiered on. He was the Great Papyrus, and he’d be darned if he’d be conquered by a little bad weather.

After making a few wrong turns—in which he often found himself either in the tangled embrace of dead-end thickets or right up against the edge of a cliff—Papyrus finally managed to make it to the gateway of the Ruins. He knew that Sans liked to patrol around here, though he himself couldn't understand why. It was creepy; the bright purple stone of the façade seemed oversaturated in the dark, snowy woods, as though it had sucked the color out of everything around it—himself included, if he were to stay there too long. The whole thing gave him the impression that the looming mass was watching him. He couldn't believe that monsters had ever lived there. Papyrus shivered, both from the severe cold and from personal disquiet.

Nevertheless, he sat right up against the wall. It was the only way to stay out of the snow that made it through the trees, as there was a small but convenient overhang at the top of the rock face. The forest around him was quiet, save for the whistling of the harsh winds above him. If he stayed here long enough, surely Flowey would show up. He'd said to meet him there, so that's where Papyrus would wait. In the meantime, he had plenty of unwanted thoughts to keep him company.

It seemed like the world had it out for Papyrus lately. He'd always been an optimist, and normally never gave a single thought about how others saw him. He was positive he'd gotten over that when he was a baby bones! Well, he'd thought he had, anyway. Flowey had opened his eyes to how wrong he was about the rest of the world. There seemed to be an endless supply of monsters willing to speak ill of him or take advantage of his optimism. Papyrus had been shown how naive he was, and then it had been thrown right back in his face, like a cruel, cosmic joke.

Papyrus refused to believe it. His last true friend couldn't be putting one over him too… could he? He had to know. He had to prove to himself that he was being wrong to doubt Flowey. Hadn't he stuck by him and cheered him up when everyone else seemed content to treat him like an ignorant child? Maybe Flowey hadn’t known, either. His old, familiar optimism was fighting a losing battle with the newfound skepticism Flowey had taught him.

He was so busy stewing in his own self-doubt that at first he didn't notice someone softly calling his name. It was only when a vine slid up and around his ankle that he jolted back into awareness, almost yelping with surprise. Flowey held a leaf up to his mouth, gesturing for quiet; Papyrus winced apologetically, and stood to walk over toward his friend—was he really his friend?—who waited for him a short distance away, behind and to the side of an almost frozen bush growing near the exit of the Ruins.

Once he got close, Flowey sunk into the ground and popped up further into the woods. Papyrus followed obediently, but felt the weight of his knowledge and his questions as though something heavy was crushing his chest. He attempted to grab the flower’s attention as they walked deeper into the forest, but he was hushed with a simple, “When we get there, Papyrus!” So he trailed behind Flowey in silence, feeling awkward and the most uncertain he’d been in a long time.

Slowly, the ground they walked on began to grow steeper, and the trek became even more difficult, as pushing himself through snow on an incline seemed to be harder than dragging Sans out of bed on a weekend. The increase in snow seemed to be due to the fact that the trees had thinned to the point where he could see the cavern ceiling again; he was surprised at how close it seemed—they must have been nearing one of the highest points of the Underground. After walking for another half-mile or so, it became apparent that they also had made it above the storm, since moving became easier with the lack of fluffy powder around his legs.

Finally, they passed the tree line, and Papyrus found himself on the flattened top of a mountain that towered far over the rest of the Underground. He felt almost breathless with wonder as he gazed upon the view beneath him. Were the clouds not in the way, he was sure he’d have been able to see all the way to Asgore’s castle, and then some. “Flowey, it’s amazing up here! How did you find this place?”

Said flower shrugged with his leaves and smiled at Papyrus. “Same way as last time. I thought you’d like it!” The flower stayed quiet for a few moments longer, allowing Papyrus time to get used to the view. Then, he broke the silence: “So, ready for our session?”

\---

Flowey could tell that something had been bothering Papyrus since he left Undyne’s. He’d been there, naturally, out of sight and beneath the window. The problem was that he could only hear Papyrus and Undyne when they were yelling, which was a constant he could normally rely on. Unfortunately, most of the stuff he _could_ hear consisted of inanities about the stupid pizza they were ruining. He could smell the thing bubbling and charring in the oven, and it was enough to turn his nonexistent stomach.

After that fiasco was over, their conversation had turned to other subjects. Flowey tried his best to listen, but the only thing he was able to make out was Undyne yelling about something or other that Papyrus had asked her. Something rude? That would be a change; Papyrus could be a little narcissistic, but never to the point that it truly offended anyone else. Not long after, they had lowered in volume, and it became useless to try and discern anything else.

He’d been debating the merits burrowing inside the house, possibly behind the fridge or under the table, when the front door banged open and Papyrus raced out. Intrigued, Flowey followed. Had Undyne insulted Papyrus? That seemed rather unlikely. Had she finally told him he wasn’t good enough? It was possible, though it would have been a gentle let-down. Had he seen through another lie? That was the most realistic scenario. He felt excited by the possibilities. It looked like he would soon have the chance to find out; Papyrus was heading in Snowdin’s direction.

He continued to creep along behind his skeletal prey, though it became more difficult when they emerged into the snowy town. The precipitation was already at the level where it was above his head, and growing his stalk out longer to see out seemed risky. He instead dug his way over to a relatively bare patch of ground under a tree near the entrance to the woods. Lo and behold, his prediction had been correct! Papyrus was heading toward the Ruins now, probably to meet him for a session. Flowey fortunately hadn’t grown bored of those yet, but he’d been wracking his brains over how to make things more interesting in the event that he did. He always needed to be one step ahead of the game, especially when a change was involved. He often had to repeat his experiments over and over to get the results he desired, and by then, he’d be nearly tired of the whole idea anyway.

The woods were empty, just like the town; no one wanted to be out in the storm. That was fortunate, because it made it less likely that anyone would be able to direct Sans or Undyne in the right direction. Papyrus’s footprints would soon fill up with fresh snow, and then he wouldn’t be trackable, either. Honestly, it seemed almost too good to be true.

Flowey popped up near the purple rock gateway, just out of sight and behind a bush; he wanted to observe Papyrus some more before directly interacting with him. It only took a few minutes for the tall skeleton to show up, and he sat down against the wall to presumably wait for Flowey to show up. He briefly considered leaving him there, out in the cold, just because he wondered what Papyrus might do. Would he keep waiting? Probably. Would Papyrus cry if he didn’t show up? He’d done it before. If he stayed out like that for too long, his bones would freeze together, and _that_ would be funny.

He continued to observe his toy, and noted the distressed look on his face. _So something did happen,_ Flowey mused. _Something serious._ He pondered over a few more possible scenarios before the suspense started to become dull, and he decided now was as good a time as any to find out what had happened. They could chat about what had occurred at Undyne’s during their session! He was dying to know.

“Papyrus,” Flowey called out, softly at first. Unfortunately, Papyrus seemed lost in his thoughts. His next few tries were ignored as well, even though he steadily raised the volume of his voice. The flower rolled his eyes, and decided it would be easy enough to get him to focus by just grabbing him, so that's what he did. Papyrus all but jumped to attention when Flowey’s vine wrapped around his foot, and the flower had to hold back a giggle. He instead held a leaf to his mouth, gesturing for quiet. He knew there was a camera somewhere in this area, but he'd forgotten its precise location a while ago. He waited for Papyrus to stand before burrowing a little way away.

Flowey led the skeleton in silence. He hushed Papyrus’s attempts to ask questions mostly to keep Papyrus in suspense, but truthfully, he was a bit lost in his memories. It had been Chara who found this place, just like the cavern in Waterfall. It had seemed like the human knew the Underground like the back of their hand; Flowey knew now that they'd had infinite time to explore, given the inherent human ability to load, save and reset. In the end, it had all been beneficial to him; now, he had no shortage of hard-to-find hiding spots. If Papyrus truly hadn't been followed, then Sans and Undyne would be hard-pressed to find him.

They finally reached the crest of the hill, and Flowey stared in amusement at how Papyrus just stood there, mouth agape as he took in the view. The flower had been impressed the first time he'd been there as well, but now the sight was all too familiar. It was a great place to be alone, though. He allowed Papyrus a few more moments to take it in before he prompted the skeleton. “So, ready for our session?”

Instead of the immediate answer Flowey had expected, Papyrus stood in awkward silence, rubbing the back of his neck. “W-well,” he stammered, “I actually wanted to talk about that. W-with you.” Flowey frowned, but only briefly, as he wondered where this little turn of events could possibly be going.

“What’s there to talk about? We can share whatever’s making you upset once we start. That's how this works, Papyrus!” The flower patted the ground with a vine, but the skeleton remained standing. Now he was starting to get on Flowey’s nerves, but the flower swallowed his anger. If he lashed out every time Papyrus was stupid or stubborn, well… that had lost most of its appeal a while ago. It could only be cathartic so many times.

Papyrus wouldn't meet his eyes. “It's just that… well, after you told me about how Sans was following me, I confronted him about it. We argued for a bit, and then he said something odd about what we’d been doing. He told me that you don't show your soul to ‘just anyone.’”

Flowey stiffened for a moment, before letting a slightly hurt expression spread across his face. “But I'm not ‘just anyone,’ I'm your best friend! Right, Papyrus? You wouldn’t lie to me about that, would you?”

The skeleton winced, hurrying to assuage the flower. “Of course you’re my best friend! It's just that it's all I _want_ to be with you. Because I talked to Undyne earlier today to confirm what Sans said, and she told me that you only show your soul to monsters you want to... _mate_ with…”

Suddenly, Papyrus’s earlier actions made sense, and Flowey cursed himself. He had no idea how he'd been so _careless_ ; he'd just assumed that in the midst of whatever anger Papyrus would feel at his brother, he'd be unwilling to listen to anything he'd have to say. But of course, the best thing about Papyrus was also his worst trait: how easy he was to redirect.

Even though he’d used Sans as a springboard to begin this whole run, he just kept on making things worse; that trashbag was _insistent_ on continuously ruining his progress. He just couldn't keep his fat mouth shut. Flowey felt his rage building, a dam’s worth that all the patience in the world wouldn't be able to keep down. And just when he'd found something new to do!

Papyrus blathered on obliviously. “And, you see, I really am flattered, Flowey, but I only want to be friends with you. It's nothing personal, I swear! To be honest, I don't really know if I'd want to be like _that_ with _anyone_.” Papyrus looked uncomfortable, blushing a little as he shifted back and forth anxiously. “Of course, I'm a little upset that you didn't tell me the truth about what you were—about what _we_ were doing. That… that wasn't very nice of you—” Flowey’s displeasure was clearly evident in his features, because Papyrus hastily added, “But please don't be upset! M-maybe you didn’t know, either?”

Flowey took a moment to school his expression into something more innocent. Surely he could still salvage something, even if it meant he would need to reset after this. Papyrus was alone. They were isolated from everyone else. He could still have some fun, and wasn't that the end goal for everything he did?

The flower pouted, looking up at Papyrus with pleading eyes. “Does this mean we can't be friends anymore?”

The skeleton hurried to reassure Flowey. “Of course, of course we can! If you're fine with just being my friend, then of course!” Flowey could always depend on Papyrus’s willingness to do anything to keep his friendships intact; even after all of the horrible things he'd done, there had never been a time where Papyrus wasn't willing to forgive someone as morally unsalvageable as Flowey.

Flowey allowed a smile to creep onto his face. “Oh, thank _goodness_ ,” he chirped, tone dripping with barely-concealed malice. He used his magic to make his vines to lengthen and multiply under the earth beneath them. “There was still so much I wanted to do with you!”

Before Flowey could make a move, however, Papyrus’s phone rang from within his pocket, disturbing the moment. Both monsters froze. Then, glancing uncertainly at Flowey, the skeleton reached inside and grabbed the device, flipping it open and holding it to his skull. “Hello?”

With all the grace associated with an impulsive split-second decision, Flowey ripped the phone from Papyrus's hand and smashed it against the ground.

\---

It took Sans very little effort to teleport. At this point, it came to him as naturally as walking, but it was the far superior mode of travel. So as soon as Sans got off the phone with Undyne, he made a quick calculation and teleported out of his home, bypassing the entrance to Waterfall and even the river, and rematerialized a little ways away from the cavern where he'd followed his brother.

He'd congratulate himself on his spectacular aim another time. Right now, all he could think about was what might be happening to Papyrus. What if he was hurt? What if he walked in on them doing… _that_ again? He needed to know his brother was okay. _Please let him be okay._

Sans rounded the corner and climbed through the gap in the stone wall. He slowed down as he approached the entrance of the cave, listening for any sounds. Even seeing the telltale glow would be enough to seal the fate of whatever monster had been taking advantage of his brother. Upon hearing nothing, Sans crept further, poking his head into the cavern and attempting to peer through the gloom.

“Papyrus,” he whispered, half-hoping that he'd be there and at the same time praying that he wouldn't. There was no response. Finally, as his nerves screamed at him that something wasn't right, he lit his eye and walked into the cave. No one was there.

Sans stayed still, gripped by panic. If Papyrus wasn't here, and he hadn't gone home, where was he? Had he made it out of Waterfall? He couldn't have gone to Hotland; he knew Papyrus hated it there. That left Snowdin. If, by some chance, he'd decided to brave the storm… well, he could be practically anywhere! The woods were enormous; he might never find him. Sans grabbed at his skull, trying to control his breathing and think logically. If Papyrus knew that he'd followed him here, there was a chance that it was the abuser who told him. In that case, he would have likely chosen a new location for them to meet.

Suddenly, a new idea occurred to him, and he sighed with relief. Papyrus had his phone with him, for once! He'd taken it with him to Undyne’s. Sans pulled the cellphone out of his jacket pocket and quickly dialed Papyrus’s number. _One ring, two rings, three rings…_ Sans willed his brother to pick up.

“Hello?” It was Papyrus, and he sounded alright! He just had to ask him where he was, and—

He heard the sound of something whizzing through the air before the line went dead. Sans’s marrow ran cold. “Papyrus? Papyrus, answer me!” he called out, even as he knew the effort was useless.

His moment of hope had been ripped away from him, and now his panic consumed him even further. The abuser must have been there with him; there was little other explanation for why the line would suddenly go silent like that. Was Papyrus still okay? Was he being punished for answering? Sans cursed himself for trying to talk to Papyrus while there was a chance he might not be alone.

Sans took a shortcut out of the cave and back into Snowdin, the storm still blowing around him. He had to start knocking on doors and getting a group together to go out looking for Papyrus. Even with his ability to teleport, he couldn't cover the whole of the woods himself. No one could.

Wait a minute.

There _was_ a monster who could. A monster with eyes all over the forest. Lots and lots of mechanical eyes.

With shaking phalanges, he dialed Alphys’ phone number.

\---

Papyrus stared blankly at his shattered cellphone before turning to Flowey. The flower stared back at him, something unreadable and quite frankly scary in his eyes. “W-why?” the skeleton asked, trying and failing to keep the tremors out of his voice.

“I told you that you should never bring your phone, Papyrus, and you disappointed me.” His voice was soft, but the quietness seemed to Papyrus like the calm before a storm. He'd never felt so afraid of his friend than in that moment.

“I—I think I should go, Flowey. W-we can hang out some other time!” The skeleton attempted to bring some of his old cheer into his voice, but even he could tell he was wasn’t succeeding; he never really had been good under pressure. He took one step back, and then another, before turning around and hurrying to the cleft in the mountainside that would lead him back into the forest.

Just before he could climb down, he heard Flowey speak. “What's the hurry?” The flower giggled as a vine burst out of the ground and wrapped around Papyrus's ankle, tripping him and causing him to bash his face into the ground. Dazed as he was, by the time he noticed that Flowey was dragging him back, he had nothing to grab onto. He scrabbled at the snowy ground, but it was all hard-packed, and his fingertips just slid over it. As a last-ditch effort, he summoned two bone lances and jabbed them into the ground, holding on with all his might. He whimpered, and begged, “Flowey, p-please, let me go!”

The only response he got was a second vine latching onto his ankle before snaking between and around his tibia and fibula. Then it pulled, and the strain on his leg caused him to yelp and release his hold on the summoned constructs, which vanished almost immediately, as the throbbing in his bones caused him to lose the concentration required to keep them.

After that it was short work to move Papyrus to where Flowey wanted him. Two more vines rose out of the ground and wound themselves around his wrists and pulled them away from him, as did the vines around his legs. It created an awful, burning stretch, and he bit back a pained whine. He heard the flower giggle again. “If you could see what you look like, Papyrus. All spread out and helpless. What’s even better is that now, you actually realize it!”

Another vine rose up, thicker than the others, and wrapped loosely around Papyrus’s neck, nudging his chin up so that he had no choice but to look at Flowey. And _what_ an expression he wore; it was an intense leer that sent a deep shudder down down Papyrus’s spine.

“It's a shame you don't think this therapy is beneficial, like I do. What a bummer!” Flowey sighed and leaned in close enough to lightly run his leaf over Papyrus's cheekbone. The flower ignored the flinch he got in return, and continued, “But like I said, I have so much more I want to try! Don't worry; in time, I think you'll come to like it.”

Papyrus shivered, panic visible in his eyes. “Please Flowey, I don't want to do this anymore! I-I'm not going to summon my soul for you.” He struggled against the vines, and cried out as Flowey pulled on his limbs again. He went limp, hoping that it would end the pain.

When the ache lessened, and he refocused on Flowey's face, he gave him the most sincere and pleading look he could muster. They were friends! Surely Flowey would see how scared he was and stop. Hadn't the therapy been supposed to make him feel better? Even if it hadn't really been therapy, he was still trying to help, right? “You d-don't have to do this! There are other ways; I'm sure if we think about it, we'll come up with something better.”

Flowey chuckled. “Oh Papyrus, you're so silly! That was never _really_ the point.” He gave the skeleton a warped, fangy grin. The flower’s eyes, now dark and hollow, seemed to bore right through Papyrus.

“This is all about making _me_ feel better!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Things are finally winding down so I should have more time to write soon. Homestretch!


	12. They Say Even the Proudest Spirit Can Be Broken...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans uses his vague science background to help fix some electronics, Papyrus has a Bad Time™ and Sans finds that out in the worst way.

_One ring, two rings, three rings, four rings._

“H-hello?” A nervous, slightly harried voice responded.

Sans could barely hold back the panic in his voice. Trying not to overload her with too much information at once, he replied, “Alphys, it’s Sans. I need you to do me a huge solid and check all of your cameras in the Snowdin woods to see if Papyrus is there or passed by at some point.”

“I-I… what? Sans, what’s g-going on?”

Okay, apparently that hadn’t worked. Sans clenched his fists, aware of the precious time ticking away, and tried to refrain from snarling with impatience. “Papyrus is missing and with the storm and everything, I’m really worried about him. Can you _please_ check the Snowdin forest cameras, Al?”

There was silence for a moment. “Al, you still there?”

Alphys answered, and he could hear hesitance along with the concern in her voice. “... y-yeah… there’s just a s-small problem. That storm you mentioned seems to have knocked the s-system askew in some areas. There are b-blackouts in some places and others with patchy video and n-no audio. I can’t g-guarantee I’ll be any help, S-sans.”

Sans cursed under his breath and closed his eyes, wearily rubbing a hand over his face. “We have to try,” he said with finality. “If you _can_ check, please, _please_ do.”

There was another pause, and then, with slightly more determination in her voice, Alphys said, “A-alright. I promise I’ll d-do everything I c-can. Stay on the l-line, okay?”

Sans did sigh with relief, this time. “You got it, Al. Thank you so much for this, you have no idea what this means to me. Is there any way I can help?”

He could hear surprise in the lizard monster’s voice when she replied, “I-I guess you could. With a network of cameras l-like mine, I need to h-have a couple of routers in the different areas to store the video. Usually I can retrieve them r-remotely, but the ADSL in the Snowdin a-area might have gotten snow in it, or s-something. W-would you know what to do? I c-could probably guide you while I’m t-trying to get the cameras online from th-this end.”

 

Sans waved her question off, which he quickly realized was pointless, given that she couldn’t see him. “Yeah, I used to deal with tech stuff all the time when I was younger. It was never my forté but I’m sure I could fix a router.”

“W-well, alright then! That would be a _huge_ help. The box is black, and pretty thick, since it’s a relatively o-older model, so it shouldn’t be t-too hard to find. You can f-find it in the trees to the l-left of the Snowman. The one north of that b-big ice patch with the sign.”

Sans nodded absently to himself, focusing on committing the information to memory. “Alright, I’ll check it out, Al. Should I bring any tools?”

“Uhhh… maybe a l-lighter? In case the box is i-iced over? Actually, you said you used to work with t-tech, so do you have anything to solder w-with?”

“Yeah, I do, actually,” Sans replied. “I’m right by my house, so I can pick all that stuff up before I head out. We should still have some solder left.”

He could hear the smile in Alphys’ voice. “Then y-you should be good. Good l-luck Sans! You can call—w-well, uh, m-maybe you can t-text me. Y-yeah, that’ll be easier. T-text me if you need any help.”

“You got it. I always knew you’d never _scale_ out on me.” It took Alphys a minute, but then she started chuckling and snorting on the other end. Despite everything, Sans could feel himself smiling, too. “See ya,” he said, and hung up.

Sans took a shortcut into basement workshop—he never needed to go get the key, thanks to that handy ability—and rifled around, looking for the right tools. He started to panic when he couldn’t find the soldering iron, but then it occurred to him to check the shed.

It only took him another few minutes of rifling around the small, rickety building to find it; Papyrus must have borrowed it to fix one of his puzzles at some point or another. A broken puzzle was comparable to a wounded animal in Papyrus’s eyes, and he always wanted to make things right as soon as possible.

A flash of fondness went through him at the thought, though it was quickly choked off by panic. What was he doing, standing around and reminiscing? He had to hurry; who knew what could be happening to Papyrus while he stood around wasting time? He really _was_ reprehensibly lazy. 

Rather than walk the long way to the Snowman, he decided to take a shortcut. As he felt energy suffusing his bones, he prayed for his brother’s safety. “Hang on, Pap,” he whispered, and was gone with a small pop.  


\---

Papyrus felt paralysed with fear. As it was, he was genuinely incapable of moving: Flowey had him eagle-spread with each of his limbs pinned to the ground with vines, and struggling just made the flower pull harder and strain Papyrus’s joints.

The clearing was filled with a network of tendrils now, some crisscrossing and others lying around the edges. The whole thing seemed as though it was a field of giant green snakes, and that walking through it would mean certain doom. Even if he got out of Flowey’s hold, he wouldn’t make it very far.

He felt the vine around his neck squeeze slightly, as though reaffirming its presence, and then it tugged on him slightly to bring his gaze back to Flowey; regardless, Papyrus couldn’t make himself meet his captor’s eyes. He whimpered, “Please, let me go, Flowey, I don’t want to do this—” He gagged as the vine tightened again.

“Oh Papyrus,” the flower cooed. “Don’t be so silly and stubborn! You were fine with all this before.”

Papyrus shook his head. “I didn’t _know_ before!” His voice crackled, filled with desperation.

“That’s too bad for you, then. You still _let_ me.” Flowey paused, and Papyrus could hear the smirk in his voice as he continued, “Just relax, Papyrus.” The skeleton only stiffened in response. “Uh-uh, that’s doesn’t look like relaxing, friend.” The vines pulled again, and this time, he felt the magic keeping his bones in their sockets pop. He quickly sucked in a breath and then cried out at the sensation. Knowing he had little other choice, he forced himself to go lax. “There we go,” Flowey said soothingly.

A new vine burrowed up from underneath him and cinched around his spine, causing him to let out a gasp. It slowly continued to push out of the ground, raising his whole body into the air. The sudden shift made him want to flail out to keep his balance; bound as he was, he could only shudder in place.

The vines holding his arms briefly let go to reorient themselves, but before he could try to bat away the other tendrils creeping over him, they grabbed him again, this time moving his arms behind his back and securing them there. There was a brief pause, and he remained slightly hunched over in midair. The flower seemed to be inspecting him.

Papyrus shut his eyes. He didn’t want to glance down at Flowey and see that scary look again. He didn’t want to be here. He should’ve listened to Sans when he said that Flowey was doing something wrong to him. He should've just avoided the flower after what Undyne told him. He should’ve, he should’ve...

Something wriggled under his clothing and he yelped, opening his eyes again. Flowey laughed at his panic and slid a few more vines under the hem of Papyrus’s shirt. They slithered around like so many snakes, prodding some of his bones or gliding across his ribcage and making him writhe. “N-no!” Papyrus cried, trying to move away from the touches. They were making him feel the same kind of strange heated sensation that he remembered from whenever Flowey would start to touch his soul. “Aah—stop, that feels weird!”

“Aww,” Flowey crooned. “Do you want me to go slower? Faster?” Even as he spoke, the vines continued to investigate every bone and the spaces between them, changing pace seemingly at random and making it very hard for Papyrus to stay still.

“I want you to _stop_! Please, listen to me!” Papyrus squirmed some more, but every time he leaned away from one tendril, he would move right into the grasp of another. They were attacking him on all sides, wrapping around some ribs and wiggling their way into his core. “Nnngh—please, please…”

Flowey spoke dismissively. “I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again: it’d be more enjoyable for us both if you would just _relax_.” An almost evil grin spread across the flower’s face. “No one knows where you are, and no one’s gonna come find you. We could be here for hours, maybe days, _weeks_ even. How tired do you think you’ll be if you try to struggle for all that time, Papyrus?”

This stopped the skeleton dead in his attempts to get away. “W-w-weeks?” His eyelights had flickered out, and his voice came out weak and desolate.

Flowey nodded solemnly before grinning again. “Yup, weeks! I’m certainly not gonna let you go without a good fight! And believe me when I say it wouldn’t go well for you. So just relax.” The vines under Papyrus’s shirt continued to fondle him, but a few more rose up and caressed his back in what might have been meant to be a soothing gesture.

“You know,” Flowey mused. “I’m glad I told you to wear casual clothing.” The coils wrapping around him gripped onto his shirt, and Papyrus glanced back at them apprehensively. “It’s so much easier to remove than armor.” Then the vines tugged sharply, and his shirt was ripped off his shoulders, finally exposing his ribcage and torso to the cold air. Papyrus cried out in shock, and didn’t have any further time to react as the tendrils around his legs began to tug at his jeans.

At this, he began his wriggling anew, wanting to move his legs close to him to protect himself but unable to move them. “No! W-what are you _doing_?” He jerked and pulled to no avail; the vines were thicker than his arms and apparently twice as strong. Even worse, his squirming only made it easier for them to strip his pants off. He let out a small wail as his scarf, his last piece of comfort, was torn away from him and thrown aside carelessly.

The flower giggled at the skeleton's discomfort, and maneuvered the tendrils so that Papyrus was kneeling on the ground before him, the vine around his neck coming alive again to angle his head so that he had to look at Flowey. The skeleton felt his magic rushing up to his face, and wished he could hide it in his hands. He spared a glance at the flower, and felt a deep embarrassment as he realized that his bare pelvis was level with Flowey’s head, and that the flower seemed to be staring at it with twisted interest. “D-don’t look at me,” he mumbled, feeling ashamed of himself.

“Don’t be so shy, Papyrus! You’re among friends, after all.” A vine reached up to brush against his cheek, and with the hold on his neck, he was unable to wince away from it. “Now, you still seem very tense, so maybe I should do something _else_ to help you relax. You won’t remember when it happened, but I’ve had enough time to find out what your body likes.”

 _What in the Underground is he talking about?_ Papyrus readied himself to ask, but shut his mouth right away with a squeak as the tendril around his spine began to stroke up and down. It sent pulses of intense heat shooting through his body, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a whine. “W-what are you doing? I don’t want you to touch me anymore, let me go!”

The vines merely continued to move, ignoring his outburst, but now began to squeeze and release his spine at intervals. The motions caused little groans to involuntarily bubble out of him, and he shook in his bonds, his legs trembling and struggling to support him. Flowey smiled knowingly at him. “See, I knew you would like it!”

Papyrus opened his mouth to insist that no, he didn’t, but all that came out was a mortifyingly loud moan as one vine found its way to the very base of his spine and began to rub against his sacrum. It proved to be of no use to try to pull away from that vine, because when he did, two more vines, these ones thinner than the others, looped through the two holes in the lower front of his pelvis and drove themselves back into the ground. Now, Papyrus could barely move his hips; when he tried, it just stimulated the sensitive bones, and with all the sensations assaulting him, he realized he would be unable to keep himself either still or quiet.

Papyrus had never been so scared and embarrassed in his life; he _knew_ why Flowey was doing this—the flower had told him, after all—but he didn’t _understand_ why. Weren’t they friends? Didn’t Flowey care about how upset he was? He didn’t want to be exposed like this, he didn’t want to be touched like this, he didn’t want to do this _he didn’t want to do this at all, why wasn’t he stopping—_

Flowey looked up with an expression somewhere between amused and exasperated when he noticed that Papyrus had started to cry, his body shuddering with the force of his sobs. The flower moved the coil around Papyrus’s neck upward to rub at the skeleton’s cheeks, wiping away some of his tears. The skeleton went rigid as the tendril began to trace pensively around the very edge of his eye socket, and he shut both of them, quaking with fear. “No, no, no, don’t, _please_ don’t!”

Flowey snorted. “Don’t be such a baby, Papyrus.” Nevertheless, the vine moved down into its previous spot, and the skeleton let out a shaky, relieved sigh. He still kept his eyes shut, unwilling to give the flower the chance to stick anything there.

At this point, Papyrus was a mess of conflicting emotions and sensations. He could feel his magic coursing through him, heating up his cheekbones and his pelvis in ways that were familiar but totally foreign at the same time. His legs were slowly becoming unable to hold him up, especially with the way those two vines by his ischia were pulling down on his pelvis. He had to strain to stay up.

All of a sudden, he felt a vine quickly rub against his coccyx, and as a flood of unexpected pleasure swept through him, his legs gave out, and he flopped back onto his calves with a shocked yelp. The vines hooked through him tugged even harder, and effectively locked Papyrus’s hips to the ground. He panted heavily, shivering as a few more vines shifted his knees away from each other and then secured his ankles in place.

Nothing happened for several moments; all the vines working on him had suddenly gone still. Papyrus figured that Flowey was waiting for him to acknowledge him, but he couldn’t build up the courage to look him in the eye, and so kept his own shut. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do, because the tendril that had touched him a minute ago came back and kneaded his symphysis relentlessly.

“Ah! Ngh—mmmn—s-s-stop, ah, n-no!” Papyrus could feel the familiar, building rush that would happen periodically throughout his sessions. He was getting so caught up in the feeling that he almost didn’t notice when the ground shifted beneath him. Almost.

Even so, it was still a very unpleasant surprise when an enormous vine burst out of the earth and shoved its way almost painfully through the center of his pelvis. The thrust sent a tidal wave of heat through him and pushed him over the edge. He shook through his orgasm, trying rather unsuccessfully to muffle his own cries of unwanted ecstasy.

“Mn, ohh—AH! Hmmnn…”

When his vision finally returned, he was hyper-aware of the sweat dripping down his skull and the coils still gripping his sensitive bones, especially the one still pushed inside of him. He couldn’t move at all without it rubbing against some plane of bone. He felt far too overstimulated. “F-flowey… t-t-take it out, please, I’m b-begging you.”

The flower chuckled, and gazed at him with a self-satisfied look that made Papyrus feel awful. “Why should I? You looked like you really enjoyed it.” A laugh burst out of him. “You’re a real slut, aren’t you, Papyrus?”

Papyrus flinched, unfamiliar with the term but able to tell it was definitely not a compliment. “P-please, just let me go. You f-feel better now, right? You got w-what you wanted, and we can let this go and never b-bring it up again, I promise!” The skeleton tried and failed to smile at Flowey. He felt sick just attempting it.

Flowey looked him up and down. “Nah, we’re not nearly done yet! I know you have more stamina than that. I’m gonna have a lot of fun with you, Papyrus. I’m gonna have you begging for it in no time.” Papyrus shuddered and tried to fight back the tears that were beginning to well up again. Flowey beamed at him. “So, for now, why don’t we try a little experiment? I want to see how many you can take before your pelvis cracks!”

Despite his efforts, Papyrus started to weep.  


\---

Sans found the router with few problems; it was right where Alphys said it would be. Unfortunately for him, that meant he had to climb up a tree to get to it—surprise surprise, climbing really wasn’t one of his talents.

It wasn’t that high up in the tree, though, and there were branches fairly low enough on the trunk that would make climbing easy… well, _easier_. He clambered his way up awkwardly and with all the grace of a drunken squirrel, almost getting blown out of the tree twice by the storm winds, and actually falling once. He managed to save himself that last time by turning his own soul blue and holding himself in the air through sheer power of will until he was able to grab the branch again. He was lazy, but never let it be said that he didn’t have fast reflexes.

He straddled the branch and pulled out his tools. Just as Alphys predicted, the lid of the box had been knocked open and some ice had gotten into it. In addition, a few wires were loose. Ultimately, there was nothing he couldn’t fix. It would just take a little time and concentration; he didn’t have much of either at the moment, but he’d have to make do.

As he let the soldering iron heat up, he sat and gazed around the clearing. It was small and mostly empty, save for the lonesome Snowman sitting right in the middle. Their eyes briefly met, and before Sans could look away, it let out a small noise of recognition. “Hello. You’re Sans, yes?”

“Yup,” he confirmed, glancing away. “Sans, Sans the skeleton.” He paused, and his grin grew a little wider. “It’s _snow_ nice to make your acquaintance.”

He heard a groan. “I’ve heard that one before.”

Sans shrugged. “Well, maybe next time I’ll think of some new ones. I’m a little busy right now, though, pal… forgive me for the _cold_ shoulder.” The iron was almost done heating up, so he summoned a little bit of magic to melt the ice partially encrusting the circuit board. Nearly every kid in Snowdin was taught simple heat magic as a survival skill, and while he hadn’t be grown up in the small town, it was an easy enough skill to pick up. At any rate, there had been no shortage of monsters who could teach him.

“If I may ask, what are you doing?”

Sans answered absently, his attention split between keeping the magic going and thoughts about Papyrus. “I’m fixing this router so that we can get some of the cameras in the area up and running.” He thought for a moment. “You wouldn’t have happen to see another skeleton come by here, would you? He’s taller than me, has an orange scarf; you can’t miss him.”

The Snowman thought for a moment. “You know, I think I have, actually. He went by the main road, going pretty fast. Looked like he was in a hurry.”

Sans soul skipped a beat. “Did he stop by? Say anything?”

“No, he didn’t. I’m used to that, though. Not many monsters visit me,” The Snowman lamented.

Sans picked up the soldering iron with a trembling hand. “Thanks for letting me know. It’s important to me.”

“Oh, anytime. I’ll be here if you need me. I can’t move, you see.”

“Got it,” Sans mumbled, and put all his focus into fixing the wires back into place. It would normally take short work, but between the shaking of his fingers and his concern about his brother, it took him a few tries to get it right.

When he was finally done, he sealed up the panel and dialed up Alphys. “Okay, I fixed the box, but more importantly, the Snowman said that it saw Papyrus run by. That narrows things down, right? You’ve got cameras along that road, check and see if any of them found him.”

“S-sans, it’ll just take me a minute, okay? I’m not g-good under pressure.” He heard her let out a nervous sigh. “Just g-give me a second, I’m almost d-done.”

Sans could feel time ticking away. Who knew what could be happening to his brother? He sat in the tree branch, phalanges clenched into the bark. When Alphys gave a little cry of elation, he almost started out of the branch again. “Sans, I checked the cameras along the road, and while a few of them are out, the ones that did see him indicate that he was heading toward the Ruins. The lens of the camera there was iced over, but I have audio of someone calling Papyrus’s name.”

Sans climbed down out of the tree, phone placed between his skull and his shoulder. “Is it a voice you recognize?”

There was a small moment of hesitation. “N-no,” she finally answered. “I can play it for you, but it’s barely audible.”

“Play it.”

There were a few clicks of a mouse from the other end, the sound of volume increasing, and then Sans heard it.

He was hit with such a strong sense of déjà vu that he almost lost his footing. It was just a few whispers, gradually increasing in volume, but he could have sworn he recognized it. He was filled with a creeping sense of dread.

“I know it, but I can’t place it,” he admitted. “I’m gonna make my way over to the Ruins. I’ll text you when I get there and when I leave. If I don’t make it back in ten minutes, call in the cavalry.”

Alphys’ voice shook. “S-sans, you’re scaring me. What are you t-talking about? Is Papyrus in danger?”

“Yes, but that’s basically all I know. Keep an eye out for me, okay?” Alphys made a noise of tentative affirmation. Sans replied, “Thanks, again, Al. I owe you big time.” He clicked the phone off, put it back in his pocket, and took a shortcut to the Ruins.

When the familiar façade appeared before him, he couldn’t help but think of all the times he’d been there as of late. Sans knew the door was locked, and would stay locked, so Papyrus wouldn't be in there. He’d never been able to coax the mysterious woman inside to come out, and at some point he figured enough was enough and she’d leave if she wanted to. He wondered if maybe the lady had heard his brother go by, but he dismissed the idea. He didn’t have enough time to wait for her to walk by the door.

He sent a quick text to Alphys to let her know he’d made it, and then turned to look at the bush where the camera was. He crouched down next to the shrub and reached inside until his hand touched the device, and using a little heat magic, he melted the ice off of the lens.

It was while he was squatting there that he found the edge of a footprint. He could hardly believe his luck. Most of it had been filled in with snow, but a bit of it had been right up against the bush and was protected by the foliage. Most importantly, he recognized the shoe size as his brother’s.

Sans saw that it pointed deeper into the woods along the side of the entrance, and further in, he saw the faint outline of more prints that hadn’t quite filled in yet, protected as they were by the trees. With no further hesitation, he made his way into the woods. There was a slow incline that steadily got steeper until he was huffing and puffing as he slogged his way up. He knew he had to be quiet in case his brother’s attacker was near, but he was just not in shape for this. He couldn’t calculate the distance to the top either, so taking a shortcut was not an option.

He was about halfway up when he started hearing distressed cries. They froze his marrow solid and made his soul tremble; his brother, wherever he was, was in trouble. Fury overtook his fear, and he began to charge up the mountain side with a newfound burst of energy. Sans _would_ find his brother; he’d make sure he was safe, and then he’d make his abuser wish that he’d never. Been. Born.

The trees began to grow farther apart, and with the absence of their canopies, he was able to see the crest of the hill. He could hear his brother more clearly now; he sounded like he was scared and in pain. His soul throbbed sympathetically. _Don’t worry, bro. I’m coming._

He should’ve known that it wouldn’t go as simply as just walking up there with no clue of what to expect.

Just as he was about to step onto the top of the mountain, the snow under him stirred, and a vine concealed there grabbed his ankle. He fell over himself due to his momentum, and he’d barely managed to plant his hands against the snowy ground before more vines surged up around him and began to bind him. Panicking, he summoned bones to cut them away, but where one fell, two more took its place.

Suddenly, an eerily familiar voice called out. “Well, look who came to join the party!”

He finally glanced up and almost choked on his own breath. He was overwhelmed with a surge of memories that only half made sense as he gazed upon a flower, of all things, and—

Oh _no_.

Papyrus was kneeling in the snow, tears streaking down his face, fear and pain in his eyes, and stripped down to his bare bones. He was bound just as firmly as Sans, and the worst part of it all was the writhing tangle of vines pushing out of his pelvis. Sans gagged, turning his head to the side and spitting out the excess magic that welled up inside of him in response to his disgust and horror.

He could hear, distantly, his brother calling out for him, telling him to run, and his fury mounted once more. His arms were bound, but he could still summon his bones. He’d cut this fucker down for hurting his brother. Just as he did so, however, the vines around him squeezed, testing the tentative balance of his 1 HP. Simultaneously, Papyrus let out a yelp as the vine around his neck did the same. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Trashbag,” the flower called out. His expression was pure evil. “If you try anything, I’ll snap your brother’s neck.”

Sans’s eyelights went dead. He wasn’t sure he could attack quick enough to prevent the flower from following through with his threat, and he didn’t see any other options, as panicked as he was. With no other choice, he expelled the bones he’d summoned. Flowey chuckled, satisfied, and began to drag Sans into the clearing. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise!” he crowed. “Now that you’re here, we can have even more fun!”

What had he gotten him and Papyrus into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to look up a lot of digital hardware terminology for this chapter, as well as pelvic anatomy. I wonder what the NSA people think I'm doing with my free time.
> 
> This is my last stressful week, and then I can devote much more time to working on the last chapter. If it's any consolation, I'm considering adding an epilogue!


	13. ...With LOVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is suffering on every side.

The range of emotions Flowey could feel was pretty limited, and the ones he could feel were dulled down to a degree. But he was pretty sure he was about as close as he’d get to ecstatic right now.

He had his vines drag Sans over, situating him what he assumed was uncomfortably close to his brother. Speaking of his brother, Flowey had been learning some more about the durability of bone! Currently, there were four small to medium vines nestled in Papyrus’s pelvis, and while there weren’t any cracks yet that he could see, the taller skeleton was clearly not happy about it; he’d cried like a baby, even while he was coming a second time. Weak.

Sans wasn't looking at Papyrus, instead staring to the side with a sickened expression and hatred in his eyes. “Let him go, you sick fuck! Papyrus doesn't deserve this, he didn't do anything to you—”

Even briefly hearing the small, pathetic skeleton speak was enough to remind him of how much he disliked him. He hated his stupid puns, his disgusting laziness, and how he always seemed to ruin things for him without trying. He hated his stupid voice, too; it was getting on his nerves big time.

“Oh, be quiet, Trashbag,” he grumbled, and summoned a vine, wrapping it around Sans’s mouth and shutting him up. Sans looked panicked for a moment, before fury flared in his eyes, like he'd never been so personally offended. Flowey chastised him with a smug grin on his face. “Audiences are supposed to be quiet and respectful! This is a private event you're interrupting, you know.” There was a series of muffled but vehement noises that sounded suspiciously like curse words, and Flowey rolled his eyes. “Good luck with that.”

He turned to Papyrus, who whimpered pitifully and said, “F-flowey, please, let him go! W-we can work something out, some way to end this without h-hurting anyone.” He had the gall to still sound hopeful; Flowey had to resist the urge to gag. It's like Papyrus couldn't get angry if his life depended on it—and, as it so happened, it did! _I do suppose it always makes things easier for me,_ he mused.

“It’s his own fault for being nosy, Papyrus. See, after everything, he still doesn’t trust you to make your own decisions. Then again, I suppose I wouldn’t trust your judgement either. You’re really, really, _pathetically_ gullible, Papyrus.”

Papyrus wilted as much as he could in his bonds. “I… I just—w-what’s wrong with thinking that anyone can be good if t-they try? I know you can be good! You used to be so n-nice to me…”

Flowey reared back his head and laughed. “Papyrus, I’m nice to you only because I have something to gain from interacting with you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be worth bothering with.” The flower enjoyed seeing that stupid, goody-goody expression drain from Papyrus’s features. “I mean, wasn’t _I_ the one that told you that people were taking advantage of how naive you are? It’s the honest truth.”

Papyrus stuttered, trying to make sense of everything Flowey was saying. It was funny to watch. “Y-you were my friend, you must have f-felt _something_ —”

“Oh, Papyrus. The only thing I really feel for you is contempt!” He smiled brightly, expression at odds with the vehemence of his words. “All you are to me is a distraction. The only worthwhile one in this dull, boring world, where everything happens over and over and over again. I bother with you because you’re amusing to me. A joke. A one-skeleton show. You’re the one toy that never gets old. Yes, Papyrus, that’s what you are: my _toy_.”

The vines in Papyrus’s pelvis withdrew partway before slamming back up into him, causing him to cry out in pain. Flowey leaned in close to him. “You’re _my_ toy, and I can do whatever I want with you, because time and time again, you _let_ me. You make it so incredibly easy! I’ve got all the time in the world to think of fun things to use you for, and you’re always good for a doormat.”

“S-stop,” came the reply, weak and desperate. Flowey couldn’t tell if it was in response to the pain in his pelvis or the words he was hearing. Either way, he didn’t care.

He turned his attention on Sans and giggled, seeing the absolute fury in his expression. “You know, none of this would have happened if you hadn’t kept sticking your nose in our business. We would have had one of our normal little get-togethers. I wasn’t planning on escalating any time soon. All this pain he’s going through is your fault, Trashbag.” Sans balked, and Flowey grinned at his distress.

“Mhm! It’s the truth! But hey, if you’re so desperate to see you brother...” Flowey used the vine wrapped around Sans’ mouth to angle his face up to look at Papyrus’s own, tear-streaked one. “...I’m happy to accommodate you.” He looked at the two brothers, and his smirk only grew deeper. “You’re going to look Papyrus _in the eyes_ while I fuck him. If you don’t, I’ll snap his neck.”

He looked at both of their dawning, horrified expressions and chuckled to himself. “Gee, I wonder if that would kill him or just paralyze him? He doesn’t have any of the requirements of flesh-and-blood monsters, but he chokes when I squeeze his upper spine. Wouldn’t it be fun to find out what would actually happen? I think so!”

At this, Sans thrashed around violently in his bonds, trying to get loose. It was frenzied, and Flowey would have laughed if Sans hadn’t suddenly looked up with murder in his eye and shot a wide barrage of pointed bones right at Flowey.

Flowey managed to raise a vine in time to bat away most of the bones, but two of them flew close to his head, nicked his petals, and dealing him a small but consistent amount of damage. This almost made him angrier than the fact that Sans appeared to be trying to call his bluff. He heard a small, distressed yelp from next to him, and he turned to glance at Papyrus.

Well, he wasn't nearly ready to end their suffering, but that didn't mean he couldn't act at all.

\---

Papyrus couldn't believe what he was hearing. Flowey was going to force his brother to watch… _this_ , this horrible awful punishment he had to bear. If this was something monsters did to mate, the _last_ person he wanted to see it was Sans. He didn't want any of this at all, but Flowey _wasn't listening_ , and now…

Papyrus was quite suddenly interrupted from his thoughts as Sans suddenly let loose an attack. No, that was the last thing he wanted! He didn't want anyone to get hurt, he wanted them to leave and never see Flowey again. But the flower had said he wouldn't let him go without a fight. He honestly didn’t know what to do, or what was right.

One of Flowey's vines quickly rose up to smack the projectiles away, and the motion accidentally snapped the very end of the tendril against his cheek. It stung horribly, and he couldn't stop a small cry from escaping him. He regretted it immediately, as Flowey turned to him with a surprised yet calculating look in his eyes. 

After a pause, he muttered, “Wow,” and turned back to look at Sans. “I know you're trying to save your brother, but directly attacking me is a pretty stupid way to show it.”

Suddenly, vines inside Papyrus’s pelvis pressed forward and down, and he had no choice but to lower himself down with them. When his ribcage finally touched the ground, the vine around his chin once again forced him to gaze up at Sans. Then, to his surprise, the vines holding his arms behind his back loosened and let go, and this time he moved them quickly enough to claw at the vine.

Flowey gave a pained yelp, and cried out, “Ow! Papyrus, stop, you’re hurting me...” The skeleton flinched and briefly stilled out of surprise. This provided more than enough time for Flowey’s vines to grab Papyrus’s wrists and pin his arms to the ground. The flower snorted. “Honestly, you’re so gullible. You think you can actually _hurt_ me? You’re way too weak.”

Papyrus gritted his teeth at the insults and tried to pull his arms off of the ground, but they were secured tightly with thick coils. “Now, Papyrus, I know you’re being a good boy right now, but your brother is misbehaving. So don’t be mad at me; he’s to thank for _this_.”

The taller skeleton blanched, fighting even harder to get loose; even a vague threat was enough to make him panic. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice the thin vine whistling toward him until it whipped into his back, knocking him into the ground and drawing a cry of pain from him. It _burned_ where it landed, and agony rippled throughout the struck bones. He barely had time to draw breath before the tendril fell upon him once more, leaving another line of stinging pain by his spine. Then once more, and again, and again.

In the end, Papyrus wasn’t sure how many times he’d been whipped; it was hard to keep count and even harder to keep conscious. His vision was blurry with tears and he felt a continuous throbbing pain in his back that made it difficult to focus on any one thing. He thought he might have heard Flowey speaking at one point, but the words themselves eluded him as his thoughts were muddled with his suffering.

Once the pain began to dull, the first thing he noticed was that a new sense of discomfort, as vines inside had begun to thrust through his pelvic hollow again. Small whimpers of pain bubbled of out him without stopping, and he felt too miserable and far gone to try keeping them in.

He just couldn’t understand why this was happening. Flowey had all but told him that they weren’t friends, that he had never really cared about him, and yet... Papyrus just couldn’t reconcile that with all the times they had spent together. How could it have mean nothing to the flower? How could he do this to him, the one he used to call his _friend_ , and laugh and smile about it? Why did he have to torment Sans, too?

 _Sans_. Papyrus’s vision had finally cleared enough to seek out his brother. And just as Flowey had ordered, his brother was staring right at him, reluctance, unhappiness, and distaste etched in his features. The taller skeleton felt a deep sense of shame at that moment. He must have disgusted his brother, must have made him feel sick at the display. The intense rush of self-loathing that hit him was something he’d never really experienced before, and it made he himself feel ill.

Papyrus jolted as he felt a new vine nose around at the base of his pelvis. “No… no, please, please don’t! I can’t take anymore, I’ll break!”

Flowey merely giggled. “That’s the plan, silly.”

Papyrus wished desperately to detach himself from the suffering that was sure to come. He looked down at the snow beneath him, all churned up and dirty from the emergence and wriggling of the vines around him. He tried to make out nonsense shapes and patterns in the fluffy powder to distract himself.

The tendril pushed in amongst the others harshly and without mercy, and Papyrus yelled as he felt his bones straining and failing to accommodate it. His cries rose in pitch to a scream as he heard an audible _crack_ and felt agony shooting from his pelvis and flood out through his limbs. Attempting to flail his legs out only caused more pain, but he couldn’t stop twitching. He just wanted it to _end_.

Flowey, on the other hand, was delighted. He burrowed underground and resurfaced next to Papyrus’s pelvis, inspecting it. “Oh, look, Papyrus, it’s only a small fracture. You didn’t break yet, and you’ve got five vines in you! That’s impressive.”

Papyrus had nothing to say to Flowey. His ribcage pushed further into the ground as he took heaving breaths, undignified and loud sobs pouring from him. They only grew louder as the vines slowly inched forward and backward, too many of them shoved inside to fully exit him. Small crackling noises issues from the side of his pelvis, and he could feel the bone shifting with the motions.

“One more should do it, I think. Keep it together, Papyrus, and we can set a record!”

Papyrus couldn’t stop himself from pleading, just one last time. “I’m s-sorry, I’m s-so sorry, whatever I d-did to make you h-hate me, I’ll n-never do it again, j-just please, _p-please_ , st-sto—” He let out a blood-curdling scream as the final vine pushed and bullied its way amongst the others, causing the jagged crack to break open.

His world was nothing but the burning pain surging through him until it felt like too much to bear. His voice was growing hoarse already, and he choked on the sounds leaving his mouth, heaving and coughing up residual magic. Passing out would have come as a blessed relief.

Flowey really _did_ hate him.

\---

Sans was at his wit’s end. He just had no idea what to do any more. The smaller skeleton winced at each whimper and plead emitted by his tortured brother, forcing himself to keep looking at Papyrus even as his pained expressions made Sans’s soul feel like it was fracturing. He didn’t want to, he hated every second of this, but a death threat to his brother was a pretty big incentive to follow the flower’s command.

He wanted to curse, he wanted to scream, he wanted to tear this goddamn abomination apart, as painfully as possible. Gagged and bound as he was, he could only lay there and watch as his brother sobbed and yelled. He was useless, so utterly useless. He had failed as a brother, he couldn’t protect Papyrus like he should have from the start. Sans flinched as the taller skeleton cried out again.

Those distressed sounds were occurring more and more often now, and Sans was deathly afraid that Flowey was actually going to make good on his promise of breaking Papyrus open. Gods, how much pain would he be in? It was all his fault. Would it… maybe it would be better if he—

Sans was snapped from his thoughts as he heard a loud crack, and witnesses his brother lose himself as his pelvis split at the side. He felt so sick, he could taste the bitter acidity of excess magic as it roiled inside him, desperate to lash out at his brother’s tormentor but regretfully held back.

Papyrus’s scream seemed to go on forever, until like his pelvis, his voice failed him and cracked. He finally went limp, face pressed into the snow and his frame trembling furiously. Sans prayed for his brother to lose consciousness; it was a mercy he sorely deserved.

“Wow, we finally did it! Heh, in the end, no one is really as strong as they think they are.” The flower glanced at Sans with a wicked grin, and Sans narrowed his eyes in response. “In fact, Trashbag, that seems like a lesson you could stand to learn!”

The smaller skeleton glowered, full of curses and insults that he wanted to say, but was unable to voice. When he couldn’t fight, his wit was his strongest defense, and he'd been effectively disarmed. But that _bastard_ could talk, and it looked like he wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon. If he was so easily distracted by the sound of his own voice... maybe Sans could get ready for one last attack.

He spared a glance at the taller skeleton. His poor brother hadn’t stirred from his spot where he lay limp in the dirty snow. If he couldn’t successfully one-shot the flower, then… at least Papyrus wouldn’t be suffering for much longer.

“How many times have we been doing this, Sans?” The flower gave a brief, mocking pause, before archly continuing, “I've lost count, myself. We go around and around, and I win over and over again. Why do you even keep trying? You’re a failure, Trashbag. You really can’t do anything right. You can’t protect yourself, and you can’t protect your brother. At the end of the day, you’re worthless. I mean, I’m surprised you haven’t offed yourself yet!”

Sans felt as though he’d been slapped. These remarks, if he were being completely honest, had all occurred to him already. He’d been fighting for so long, and for what? He could never truly win. The few times he managed to kill the flower gave him at most a week of peace before the world around him reset. His brother would die. His friends would die. He would die. But he hadn’t yet felt so low as to take his own life. Sans had to keep living, for Papyrus’s sake. He didn’t know if he’d be able to cope with the fact that he’d be causing his brother pain by not doing so.

And yet, it seemed he already had made his life miserable. This whole mess proved his utter inability to watch over Papyrus. Sans cursed himself, over and over again. He’d seen this all coming and he hadn’t been capable of doing anything to stop it.

The vine wrapped around his head shook him a little, drawing his attention back to his captor, who had gotten alarmingly close to him. His gaze was full of disdain for the smaller skeleton. “You’re disgustingly pathetic, and not in the endearing way, like your stupid brother. That’s why I picked him over you.” He drew back, giggling. “Even so, the best way to get through to _you_ is through Papyrus. It’s so fun to make him cry!”

He looked the skeleton over. “I mean, I’m sure _you_ wouldn’t like it either. But with your one HP, it wouldn’t last very long, would it? Pity. I’m sure I could think of a thousand ways to make you suffer like this.”

Sans recoiled in disgust. _To hell with it._ He prepared his magic for a final attack.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled. The two had little to no warning as the ground burst open and rows upon rows of bones surged up from the soil. Several of them jabbed into Flowey, who had barely managed to extend his stem to get out of the worst of it. He struggled to free himself from them as most, if not all of the vines growing around the clearing became severed from their roots, flopping limply down onto the now muddy snow.

Sans saw the incoming waves, and couldn’t believe his eyes. He hadn’t gathered enough energy to finish summoning an attack yet, but there it was. It was headed right toward him, in fact. At the very last second, it parted around him, cutting through the bases of the coils binding him. He immediately struggled, but the vines stayed tight around him, a sort of rigor mortis gripping them. But still, he had to get free. He had to get to his brother.

He hadn’t summoned those bones. _Papyrus_ had.

\---

The tall skeleton flexed his hands, now freed as the vines holding them down were split apart. He brought them to his face to scrub at his tears as they dripped down his face. Papyrus felt numb; he couldn’t believe what he had done.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he pushed his torso off of the ground, and immediately cried out in pain as the movement caused his broken pelvis to slide along the ground. He had no choice but to grit his teeth and drag himself up to a sitting position. It was pure burning pain, the weight of his upper body putting pressure on the injured bone. He tried to summon a little healing magic, but he’d been drained to start with, and that last attack had taken nearly everything he had left. Small flickers of green churned around his fingertips before sputtering out.

It seemed he had no choice, then. Wincing, he grabbed one of the bones in the ground next to him and tried to lever himself up. He just couldn’t keep himself from screaming. It hurt too much. It took him by surprise when his vision cleared and he found himself standing on badly shaking legs. He leaned against the rod planted in the ground and whimpered as quietly as he could.

All the noise hadn’t escaped Flowey’s notice. He turned his head as much as he was capable, his stem all but stuck in place. Shock was clear on his features, and Papyrus felt shame almost as cutting as the pain in his pelvis. “Did that come from _you_? Did you just _attack_ me?”

The taller skeleton found himself speaking, badly stuttering, but making a decent attempt. “I d-d-don’t care—ngh—why you’re d-doing this anymore. I will n-never let you hurt m-my b-b-brother. N-not like you did to me.”

The flower stared at him for a moment, and then began to laugh uproariously. “Oh my god! This is just too good to be true.” With a wrenching, tearing noise, Flowey forced his stem to turn, ignoring how the bones impaling it left deep scrapes. Still, as Papyrus watched, they had already begun to heal, plant matter building up where it had been gouged out. “Papyrus,” the flower said, and the menace in his eyes made the skeleton shiver deeply, “Do you really think you can measure up with me when it comes to power? I’m going to answer that for you, since you’re a moron. No, you can’t.”

A few more vines burst out of the ground in front of the flower, writhing violently. Papyrus felt his knees weaken, the pain in his lower half more prominent than before at the sight. His breath began to puff out in short, panicked gasps that made Flowey chuckle. “I think,” he said, alarmingly quietly, “that you just made a very big mistake, _friend_.”

Papyrus closed his eyes and prepared for the worst. He had no magic left to defend himself with. It would have taken a miracle to get him out of this, and he just didn’t believe that he had the luck to make it happen.

Fortunately for him, the universe disagreed.

“NGGGGAAAAAAAHHH!”

In spite of all the fear and pain within him, Papyrus weakly grinned. He’d never been more happy to hear that terrifying screech before.

\---

Flowey was beginning to have somewhat of an unpleasant experience. He had to heal himself from that idiot’s attack, he had to deal with the lingering pins-and-needles feeling that having so many vines cut off gave him, and now, he had to deal with that godawful fish. This day just kept getting better. And. Better.

The fact that she was wearing full body armor and panting slightly from the climb did nothing to impair her magic abilities, and Flowey had to sink below the ground to avoid her incoming spears, wincing from a tingling feeling that signalled the lance had severed his newly summoned vines. He popped up again, a little ways away, and glowered at the royal guard, who lifted up her visor to glare back at him in turn. He didn’t miss how her eyes flickered toward Papyrus and hardened at what must have been a truly pathetic sight. He didn’t dare glance behind him, but he could have sworn he heard more sobbing.

She raised her head and planted a new energy spear into the ground. “Hey, motherfuckers. The cavalry’s here.”

Flowey rolled his eyes. “Did it take you the whole way up to think of that one, idiot?” When Undyne didn’t dignify him with a response, he glowered at her. “I wasn’t planning on killing anyone today, but I think I can make an exception, what with how all of you are so excellent at getting on my nerves!”

Undyne raised her spear again, this time swiping it through the tendrils coiled around Sans’s body. The flower groaned inwardly as the small skeleton rose to his feet with a swiftness rarely seen from him. The fish woman gripped San’s shoulder with the camaraderie of a fellow warrior. “Hey, bonehead. Got here as fast as I could once Alphys called me and told me what was going on.”

The skeleton’s left eye flared up with blue fire as an array of bones fanned out around an outstretched hand. “Thanks, Undyne. I’ve been wanting to kick this pansy’s ass for some time now.”

Flowey concentrated his magic and summoned yet more vines, this time conjuring some bullets as well. This run-through had been a total loss, and he was furious. At the very least he could take out his frustration of these pathetic excuses for fighters. And he’d make it as painful as possible.

\---

The familiar thrum of San’s magic suffused every bone of his being, fighting for its place alongside the rush of déjà vu roaring through him. He was ready to fight, ready to tear that revolting flower apart with his bare hands if he had to. If he’d failed at protecting Papyrus this time, then maybe this time he could avenge him.

The three stood there, unmoving and assessing each other for weaknesses. Very quietly, Sans muttered. “I’m gonna distract him. Get Papyrus out of here.” His voice left no room for argument, and Undyne shot a hard look at the smaller skeleton before acquiescing with a small nod.

Flowey broke the standoff by shooting a spray of bullets right at the two of them. Undyne and Sans dodged out of the way, splitting up and running around the clearing in opposite directions. Flowey’s attention stayed on Sans, evidently deeming him as the bigger threat. _Good. Let’s keep it that way._ The skeleton sent out a fan of bones skimming close to the ground, but the flower sunk beneath the soil before they could reach him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Undyne making her way toward Papyrus. He backed away from their direction and toward the cliff face, intent on drawing Flowey away from the center of the peak. Unfortunately, when he resurfaced, he was facing the direction of Undyne and Papyrus. A tangle of tendrils surfaced, and Sans quickly raised a wall of bones in between Flowey and the other two.

The vines redirected themselves, flying toward Sans. He prepared to pull the same maneuver again, but lost his footing at the last second. He glanced at the ground beneath him and did a doubletake: a vine had burst out of the ground and coiled itself around his ankle. The approaching tendril seemed to him as though it was gaining speed. He stood, paralyzed, before regaining his wits and concentrating his willpower with practiced ease. He wanted to be anywhere else than where he was; specifically, he wanted to be out of reach of the attack. He was determined not to lose, and his magic reacted.

Sans reformed on the other side of the clearing. By now, Undyne had had a chance to start helping Papyrus away and into the relative safety of the woods. Undyne had maneuvered his arm over her shoulder, and the two were hobbling away. He wanted, no, he _needed_ to talk to his brother; if something went wrong… well, he couldn’t let the argument they’d had earlier be the last time he’d spoken to Papyrus

Something green flashed at the edge of Sans’s vision, and he had only seconds to react. With a backbend that would make a professional limbo dancer weep in jealousy, he narrowly avoided losing his head at the neck to another swiping vine. As it was, he stumbled backward and fell onto his tailbone, pain radiating from his coccyx and vertebrae where’d he bent. Fortunately, it had been a light fall onto churned up, fluffy snow. If it had been regular ground, or—even worse—hard rock, he would’ve been dead.

The small skeleton sprang to his feet, shaking off the twinges of discomfort, and surveyed his surroundings. In the brief time it had taken for him to fall and stand back up, multiple vines had surfaced around him. He readied himself to teleport again, but stopped when the tendrils nearest to them were severed at the middle, a magic green spear burying itself at his feet.

Undyne stood at the edge of the forest, another lance in her hand, crackling with energy. Her armor was gone, however. He glanced beyond her and saw Papyrus just above the crest of the mountaintop, and what of him he could see was covered in glistening metal. A measure of comfort and a strategic move, that was, protecting him from further harm. He gave the fish a small grateful smile before they both turned back to stare down the threat before them. So far, neither party had been able to really land a hit on the other, and Sans wanted this over with as soon as possible.

Running out of options, the skeleton took a deep breath in and tugged out with his magic in the way he’d been taught to do, oh so long ago. The air above them sparked, and a row of canid skulls appeared above them, burning hot energy glowing in between their bifurcated jaws and sharp, jagged fangs. He lifted an arm and aimed. Time to end this once and for all.

\---

_Oh, come on. That’s just_ not _fair._

Flowey ducked below the earth once more, but didn’t make it far before a beam of energy cut through the dirt near him. He wasn’t able to move out of the line of fire quite fast enough, and it singed the tips of his petals. Flowey let out a small grunt of annoyance—not pain, these pathetic fools were beneath him, and how dare they even bother attacking him—and burrowed further, trying to move unpredictably. Every now and then, another round of laser beams would pierce the ground nearby. He very nearly got caught between two of them, only barely escaping with his head in one piece.

This was getting ridiculous. Sans and Undyne didn’t have enough Determination, even combined, to deal with him. Their movements should have been predictable and easy to dodge. Instead, he’d barely been able to graze the Trashbag—and really, that would do the trick—and that poor excuse for a warrior had gone and hidden Papyrus away somewhere. The flower cursed himself for being so preoccupied with his old enemy.

No matter. He could find Papyrus again. He knew every inch of the Underground like the veins of his leaves. There was nowhere Papyrus could hide, and once Flowey had found him, he’d rub the skeleton’s stupid face in Sans’s dust. And then he’d pick up where he left off. How fun would it be then, to force Papyrus to feel pleasure when he would still be so distraught over the loss of his brother? The guilt, the self-loathing—it would be palpable, and amazing! He’d really _savor_ such a rich array of emotion, no matter who it came from. He could see it now, it was a bright beacon in the dark—

Flowey moved right into a beam. His HP dropped by more than half before he could burrow away from it, and he was forced to surface as the soil around him began to harden into glassy silica from the extreme heat. His blackened petals sizzled in the cool mountain air, and he cursed himself again for not paying better attention. Flowey couldn’t feel very much pain in general, but it quite clearly _hurt_. At this rate, he’d have to get out of here, and fast. He’d regather his strength, plot for a bit, and then… he didn’t know, maybe kill them in their sleep. Not as satisfying as a real victory in battle, but it would have to do it for him.

He could conceivably reset now. He would just need to get out of the line of fire long enough to concentrate and reach out to his SAVE file. But the Trashbag and and his ill-tempered friend were not making it easy for him. If Flowey died now, it would be really inconvenient for him. It took his form a while to regenerate, given that it was just a soulless vessel. It would take a week, at least, and only then would he be able to reset.

This was the problem with trying new things. As thrilling as the outcomes were, they came with a host of problems, such as your victims fighting back, laser skulls, and more _exciting_ things like that. Hooray.

Flowey cut through the dirt, plowing through the packed snow and ground beneath it. A spear whizzed over his head, and he slogged his way even closer to the edge of the woods. He was almost there, he could make it—

He found himself face to face with a quite clearly terrified Papyrus. Blinking away his shock, he realized that he might still have another option.

He cried out pitifully, “Papyrus! Please, help me! Your brother is going to hurt me, you’re not gonna let him hurt me, are you, Papyrus? Aren’t I your friend? C’mon, Papyrus, you’re the only one who can save me!” He was really laying on thick, he knew, but sometimes it paid to do it with someone as dramatic as Papyrus.

The skeleton stammered, unable to get his words out, but the flower could see the conflict in his eyes, even if just for a brief moment. Then his eyes flickered behind him and widened even more. Before Flowey could turn around, he felt his form pierced simultaneously by a group of spears. He thought, faintly, about how hard it must have been to aim those all at such a small target. He thought about how he wasn’t ready to die yet. He thought he could see horror in Papyrus’s eyes, now, mouth opened with halted words, words that might have saved him.

He thought of a lot of things at once, and then, just like that, he died.

\---

Papyus trembled hard enough that the borrowed armor clicked around him. He couldn’t stop staring at the shredded remains of his friend, his confidant, his attacker. The skeleton hardly noticed the hands gently touching him through his own shaking, but when he did, he yelped and stumbled backwards. Pain shot through his lower half, and he cried out again.

He became very dimly aware of someone saying his name. The hands were gone now, but as his vision cleared, he saw them hovering near him uncertainly. One set was blue and webbed, the other small and bony.

The taller skeleton tried to speak, but he couldn’t gather any cohesive thoughts. Flowey was dead. His brother and his best friend had just murdered him. His brother had used… _oh Gods_. He whimpered fearfully, covering his face with his hands. He’d never seen those awful things before, but they terrified him. The way they tore through the mountain top, like a hot knife through butter, was horrifying, but not more than the look on Sans’s face. There had been literal fire in his eyes.

Papyrus had never seen anyone so vengeful on his behalf, and it scared him almost as badly as his time here with Flowey had been.

“Papyrus. Papyrus, please look at me.”

He focused, and he locked eyes with his brother, who kneeled beside his head.

“S-sans?”

He could hear his brother’s relieved sigh. “Is it okay if I help you sit up a little?”

Sit up? Had he fallen? He could feel dirt and small, jagged rocks beneath his skull, and a smarting pain from where his head had hit them. He nodded his assent, and tried not to wince when both pairs of hands grasped him, albeit gently, and pulled him until he sat upright. Sans quickly slipped his jacket underneath Papyrus’s hips, providing a small amount of support from the hardness of the ground.

He couldn’t bring himself to look in their eyes, not any longer than he already had. They—they had killed someone, and they had done it for him. They’d practically torn him up. All this to the same person who had once sworn that he was Papyrus’s friend, who’d begged him with real fear in his eyes to save him. Even if Flowey had done all those awful things to him, how could he refuse to protect someone? He was scared of Flowey, sure, but to be scared of Undyne? Of his own brother? He didn’t know if he could handle that.

Undyne spoke this time. “Papyus, it’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe, we promise.”

Sans nodded, and surprisingly, he looked as lost as Papyrus felt. He hesitated a moment longer, before blurting out, “ _Gods_ , Papyrus, I’m so sorry that this happened. I wish I’d been able to come sooner; then, you wouldn’t have had to go through this. But we’re gonna protect you better from now on, and we won’t let anyone hurt you like this again.”

Undyne put a hand on Sans’s shoulder. “Hey, this isn’t all on you. We should’ve all been there for him. “ Her earfins drooped for a moment, before perking back up. “We’ll all do better next time. We owe it to you, big time. I only wish we’d gotten to that guy sooner, I’d’ve— _ow_.”

Sans had driven an elbow into her side once he’d noticed tears welling up in Papyrus’s eye sockets. He turned to Papyrus and carefully murmured, “I know you thought he was your friend. I can’t imagine how horrible that must be for you. But I promise you that this isn’t your fault. There are so many people around you who would never treat you like this. They all care about you. And you know I care about you, bro.”

Sans looked away for a moment, guilt in his eyes. “I’m sorry that I argued with you like I did. Before you left. You didn’t deserve that, either.”

He hesitantly held out his arms for a hug. Papyrus stared at him blankly. “H-he’s dead, isn’t he?” It was really more of a statement than a fact. “He’s g-gone.”

Sans hesitated for a moment, and then nodded solemnly, but firmly. Undyne’s brow furrowed, but her eyes were uncharacteristically softened with concern. Papyrus looked at them, the people who cared about him so much that they would, and _had_ , killed for him. As much as the idea repelled him, it was surely better than the “care” that Flowey had offered him, back when all this began.

He leaned into his brother’s arms, and as Undyne joined them in the hug, he couldn’t keep himself from bursting into tears. He just couldn’t believe it.

It was really over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!
> 
> There will be an epilogue, so stay tuned. Hopefully I'll have it done quicker than this one.


	14. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I try to wrap things up as best as I can.

Sans stood in front of Papyrus’s door, hesitating. The first “light” of morning had already shone a few hours ago, and his brother was still in bed. This was almost unprecedented; even when Papyrus was sick, he never stayed laying down for long, and it was a constant battle to get him to rest. But now, waiting outside Papyrus’s door until late in the afternoon had become somewhat of a routine for Sans.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t move; one of the first things they had done was heal Papyrus’s broken pelvis. He’d refused to have a healer look at the break, so Undyne had utilized her green magic to speed up the healing process. The open gap had turned into a smaller crack, and they’d stabilized the bone with the makeshift hybrid of a splint and a cast.

Sans had been too worn out from summoning the Blasters to help them home with a shortcut, so Undyne carried them both home, much to the smaller skeleton’s chagrin. By the time they got back, it was dark out, and no one had bothered to make their way through the deep layer of snow blanketing the town, so no one saw them enter their home. She'd deposited the brothers on their couch and stepped out to guard their front door as they both promptly passed out, Papyrus clinging tightly to Sans even in his sleep.

It hadn't been long before Papyrus had his first nightmare. His jostling and whimpering had woken Sans just in time for the elder brother catch him with blue magic as he rolled off the couch. By the time Sans had managed to bring his brother back to reality, Papyrus had been a mess, and Sans’s embrace, meant to comfort and protect, drove him further into a panic. He could do nothing but watch— _again_ —as his brother cried himself out. He didn't have to ask what Papyrus had seen in his dreams; it was all too vivid for him, as well.

In the morning, energy restored—Undyne, despite having kept an all-night vigil, could make a delicious and destructive breakfast—Sans had teleported Papyrus upstairs and put him in bed. As far as he could tell, being around his brother was only putting Papyrus on edge. At the same time, he didn't want Papyrus to feel abandoned. So he began his habit of waiting in front of his brother’s door. Eventually, Papyrus would call for him if he needed anything.

At least, that was what he'd thought. Sans had cracked after two days had gone by without hearing anything Papyrus. There had been no calls for assistance, but no cries of nightmare-inspired terror either, and he'd grown increasingly worried about the possibility that Papyrus had… that he’d fallen down. He couldn't handle it anymore.

If Papyrus wasn't getting out of bed, it was more likely to do with the circumstances that caused the break than the injury itself. He couldn't allow the matter to lie with things as they were.

He'd knocked on the door, quietly, and he could hear the springs in the taller skeleton’s mattress creak as he likely jolted in surprise from the sudden sound. Sans softly called out, “Papyrus?”

After a small eternity of silence, he heard a quiet, “Y-you can come in.”

Sans had slowly opened the door, peering into the darkness of the room. With a small click, he flicked the light switch, and this time he was able to see his brother flinch. His soul twinged sympathetically, and he approached carefully to prevent his brother from being frightened any further.

He’d sat down gently at the edge of the bed when Papyrus made no move to prevent him. The taller skeleton wouldn't meet his eyes, and it worried him, though not quite as badly as his silence.

Sans waited for a moment, taking in his brother’s appearance. He sat hunched over, wrapping his arms protectively around him. The rims of his eyes looked darker than usual. “Were you been able to get any sleep?”

Wordlessly, Papyrus shook his head. He paused, letting out a shaky sigh, before mumbling, “No… I… I'd see it again.” While Sans’s grin was eternally fixed in place, he knew the lights in his eyes must have gone out.

He looked away, unconsciously mirroring his brother’s posture. “It wasn't your fault. You have to know that, Papyrus.” He made himself turn back to the taller skeleton, and the look of misery on his face made Sans’s soul feel like it was breaking.

“B-but… Sans, I just don't understand! I m-must have done something, b-because h-he wouldn't have, he w-wouldn't, I know we w-were _friends_ s-s-so—” Papyrus’s words broke into incoherency as he began to sob, large blotchy tears trailing down his face, and he curled in on himself even further.

Before Sans could be aware of himself, he had moved in to hold his brother, just barely remembering to keep his touch light and unrestrictive to prevent the taller skeleton from panicking even more. Sans could sympathize with that feeling; he'd woken up thrashing the previous night, wrapped up in his tangled sheets and feeling helpless and miserable in the wake of brutal nightmare.

Papyrus stiffened in his hold, despite his brother’s gentleness, but he didn't fight to get away. Sans didn't know if that scared him even more than the alternative, so he let go. Papyrus straightened, sniffling and messily wiping away his tears as they fell. When that subsided, he merely stared blankly into the distance, shivering slightly.

Sans didn't know if Papyrus was listening, but he had to speak and get out the words that had been building in him like steam in a closed kettle for the past few days. “He lied, Papyrus. There will always be people who lie to get what they want, and use whoever they have to so that it happens. He, to my knowledge, can't feel anything like remorse. _That’s_ why he does the awful things he does.”

“He didn't know any better?”

Sans shook his head quickly. “No, he does, and that makes it even worse. Some people do exist who have a hard time feeling empathy, but they can control themselves. He used to be like that, I remember. I guess he just... snapped at some point.”

Papyrus looked miserable and confused all at once. Slowly, he ventured, “But you never met him! I mean… I know he said how for him, things kept happening over and over again. Is that what you're talking about? Has all this occurred before?”

“No, but he's done plenty of awful stuff. I remember it as soon as I see him, but he's gotten good at hiding from me. And as far as I know, I'm the only one who can remember.”

The taller skeleton looked shocked. “That must be awful for you! Why don't you tell anyone?”

Sans chuckled hollowly. “Like I haven't tried before?” When Papyrus’s expression became even more upset, he looked away and murmured, “You're better off not knowing as it is. If I could spare you from all the awful things that might happen, then I would do it again and again.” Papyrus looked appalled, but before he could say anything, Sans cut him off with, “In a heartbeat, Pap.”

He paused, and then sighed wearily. “I mean, it's obvious that it didn't work. I didn't want to tell you about all that… _stuff_ , because I wasn't ready for you to grow up. If you're going to blame anyone for this, it should be me.”

He sagged a little, refusing to look at his brother, so when Papyrus wrapped his arms around him, it came as a surprise. Still, he leaned into the embrace. “Hey, I'm supposed to be comforting you, bro,” he muttered, his eyes lights flickering a little with unshed tears.

The two of them had stayed like that for a long time.

After that, Sans had thought things would be different, that they would be better. But the next day, Papyrus had kept to his room again.

Each time Sans waited outside the door, he could feel the weight of his negligence crawling on his back. About a week had passed, and he grieved for the loss of his brother. He'd give up Grillby’s forever to have Papyrus thundering through the house to wake him from his naps and call him lazy like he used to.

“Papyrus?” He called.

A pause, then the sound of shifting bed springs. “You can come in, brother.”

He pushed the door open, walking into the room to take his usual spot on the edge of the bed. “Are you alright?”

Papyrus nodded wordlessly. Sans pressed further. “Physically, I mean. You know I was _boned_ to ask about it sooner or later.”

The taller skeleton huffed quietly, but it made Sans a lot happier. Any semblance of normalcy was good. “I'm fine.”

The smaller skeleton shuffled uncertainly. “Would it be okay if I looked at the crack? To see if it's healed right?”

Papyrus froze, grimacing. Sans knew he was really pushing it, but it needed to be done. It's not like he wanted to see, but if it wasn’t the injury keeping him in bed, then… well, it was better to know.

His brother took in a deep, shaky breath. Visibly gathering his courage, he slowly nodded and pushed his sheets back a little. Sans shifted closer. “I'm not gonna take anything off, so don't worry.” Papyrus nodded listlessly in response.

He gently grabbed the band of Papyrus’s pajama pants and pushed it down to the side, stopping to look back at Papyrus, who was audibly shaking, his bones clacking quietly. Sans mumbled multiple apologies distractedly, while unwanted memories began to bubble out of the darker corners of his mind and clamor for his attention. He forcefully put them out of his skull; he’d had plenty of awful experiences in his life, and this was just one more to add to the depressing pile. Besides, he didn't have any right to complain, since Papyrus was the real victim. He steeled himself and finally looked at the side of Papyrus’s pelvis.

The crack was almost completely gone.

Wordlessly, he pushed the fabric back in place. Sans scooted back, giving Papyrus his space. “Papyrus… I can understand if you don't want to leave the house, but I would really like it if you could come downstairs. I'm really worried about you, bro.”

Papyrus remained silent for a few moments. Sans continued, “I promise, there's nothing that can hurt you there. He's gone. I miss you, Papyrus, and I'm scared that if you stay here for too long…you're the Great Papyrus, the strongest monster I know, and I'm really scared that you're gonna fall down. Please, Papyrus.”

“... okay.”

Sans blinked. “Really?”

Papyrus nodded, managing a shaky smile. “The Great Papyrus could n-never let his brother down.”

Sans’s heart fell. “No, Paps, it's not like that. I'm not disappointed in you at all!”

Papyrus was already pushing his sheets all the way off and moving to the edge of the bed. “Worry not, b-brother, I—nyeh!”

He'd tried to stand and instead toppled to the floor. He stayed there for a moment, before mumbling, “C-clearly my amazing muscles have atrophied.”

Sans couldn't help himself; he burst out laughing. Papyrus broke a small smile as well. The smaller skeleton tried to help his brother up, and just barely succeeded through the use of blue magic. Once Papyrus was able to brace himself against the wall, he was able to move. Sans watched his brother take a few hesitant steps into the hall for the first time in a week, and—even as he knew Papyrus was humoring him—for the first time in a long while, he felt a semblance of HOPE. It _had_ been a week, and no reset... maybe this time things would be different.

\---

Darkness.

Darkness surrounding him on every side was what first greeted him when he’d come back to awareness.

_Fuck._ Flowey cursed, and then cursed again, but the sounds vanished in the completeness of the void that engulfed him. So he’d died, then. The memories were slowly coming back, the recollections of how his perfect run had been ruined. _Ruined!_

Even the most carefully-laid schemes were always messed up by that godforsaken undersized piece of skeletal shit. He was too powerful for his own good, and somehow, even though there was nothing overtly special about him, could remember everything he’d done on sight. He had a very overdeveloped sense of vengeance, that one.

It consistently got Flowey into trouble. All he wanted was a little fun, a little diversion from the unending dullness of this loop he was stuck in! But he couldn’t even have that, it seemed.

_What went wrong?_ It always boiled down to that question.

He’d been as secretive as he could; Papyrus trusted him enough to not tell Sans the truth, but Sans was paranoid enough to seek it out anyway. The obvious answer would be to kill Sans early on in the run, but that would ruin his brother by default, even if he’d made it look like an accident. Flowey would be unable to get results like he’d gotten this time around.

He couldn’t see a perfect solution. If he convinced Papyrus to go on an expedition into the Snowdin woods, Sans would surely go looking for him before a week had passed.

He was pretty sure it was impossible to make Papyrus hate Sans. Flowey had gotten as close to it as he could in this run as any of the other ones, and that was just disappointment and a little bit of resentfulness.

It seemed unlikely to get the results he’d gotten this first time around again. Déjà vu was a karmic son of a bitch when it came to repetition. Plus, it got old for him very quickly. Having to load a save even once had been annoying, since he’d had to backtrack.

So he was stuck. No way forward, and the way back was not appealing at all.

_What am_ I _doing wrong?_

He couldn’t be what was wrong. That was idiotic. Every single instance of his runs going wrong were due to variables he couldn’t control. Every last drop of his determination was useless against the immutable laws of this fickle universe. 

He sighed, the motion largely unnecessary without a corporeal form. He’d have plenty of time to think about it, at any rate. He hadn’t regenerated enough for the shining brightness of RESET or LOAD to appear anyway. He could even reset and take a whole run off to think about it if he wanted to. He needed to decide what his next step would be.

That, above all, was important.

\---

Undyne drummed her claws on the surface of her table, a nervous tick that, despite all the time she’d had it, she hadn’t yet noticed. Ironically, it was her best alternative to pacing a groove into her floor, of which there were already several. She’d never been good at hiding her emotions, as much as she’d like to believe she was only ever a bastion of confidence. Her anxiety was getting the better of her, however, as she forced herself to wait inside her home.

Papyrus was coming over for a cooking lesson. It had been a long time since they’d last seen each other, and he’d finally called her and asked if she wanted to hang out. She was thrilled that he was finally feeling better—he hadn’t left Snowdin town for a while now, and she could understand that he wouldn’t be comfortable in Waterfall.

What she couldn’t understand was why he had decided he would walk to her house alone. She would be more than comfortable walking with him, but he had firmly—if slightly shakily—insisted on coming by himself. She didn’t know what Sans thought about that, but she imagined he was just as conflicted about it as she was.

But it wasn’t like there was someone out to get Papyrus now. That… _thing_ wasn’t alive anymore. Did they really have anything to worry about?

_Yes,_ Undyne scolded herself. _If you’d been more careful about that, none of this would have happened in the first place!_ She wouldn’t let her guard down again, that much she was sure of.

She was disturbed out of her absentminded tapping when she heard a loud and familiar knock on her door. She stood and hurried over to the entrance, a wide toothy grin already spreading across her features. She pushed the button that allowed the ‘jaws’ of the door to slide open, and just as she had predicted, there stood Papyrus.

Undyne lit up upon seeing him, greeting him with a fond and loud, “Hey, Papyrus! I missed you, punk. C’mon, get in here!”

Papyrus quickly stepped inside, the look of immense gratitude on his face making her soul ache. “Hello, Undyne! Indeed, it has been a while, and I apologize for not coming sooner. There is no excuse for someone as great as I to put off visiting a friend for so long.”

_Of course there was, numbskull!_ Tact was not Undyne’s strong suit, but even she knew that she couldn’t voice that particular sentiment. Instead, she allowed her usual fierce expression to soften a little. “Don’t worry about it, Papyrus! You know I could never hold it against you.” She gestured to the kitchen countertop—spotless save for the usual dents, burns and scratches—and Papyrus ventured forward, looking eager to begin the messy, time-consuming process that was cooking. By now it was routine for both of them, and gods-knew how much they both needed some normality.

Of course, it was too much to hope that the mere semblance could last. They had been making spaghetti—they both silently agreed that pizza was just too much of a hassle for them to attempt it again—when Undyne had brought out her usual stirring implement of choice: her spear.

The effect was immediate. Papyrus made a small, shocked noise and stumbled backwards, tripping over himself and knocking the pot over in the process. He scrambled further away, and at first Undyne thought it might be because of the scalding water, but the haunted look in Papyrus’s eyes gave her pause.

Of course. The last time he’d seen her use a lance was when…

She dispelled it immediately and reached out a hand to pull him up from the ground. He only flinched further away. Undyne winced in response. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Papyrus,” she said, trying to make herself as unthreatening as possible, daunting task that it was. For a moment, the only noises to be heard was the trickle of hot water dripping off the stove and Papyrus’s panicked but slowing breath.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Papyrus finally spoke, but he mumbled, almost too quietly for Undyne to catch, “You hurt him, though.”

It took Undyne a minute to process what the skeleton had said. Her eyebrows drew up in surprise, and it took effort to keep a snarl off her face. “Of course I did! He was doing _awful, repulsive_ things to you—on what level does that compare to knocking over a pot of pasta?”

Papyrus seemed to only shrink further into himself with each word, a rather impressive feat for someone as gangly a him. He stared off into the distance, not making eye contact with her.

He spoke again. “You killed him.” The words began to tumble out in a near incomprehensible rush. “You killed him, and he was begging me to save him and he was my friend for so long and he needed me to save him and you killed him, and I—I’m so scared all the time because I never wanted any of this to happen, I… I—”

He choked up as tears began to trickle out of his sockets. His next words came out as a whisper. “I’m scared of seeing you and Sans that mad again, that you’d murder someone _because of me._ ”

Undyne was speechless. It had never, ever occurred to her that something like that could have frightened Papyrus—but then again, wasn’t that the exact reason she’d been keeping him off the battlefield? He believed that any conflict could be solved without fighting; he probably wouldn’t fight to save his own damn life. And Undyne had laid the killing blow to someone Papyrus had somehow seen as a friend.

She tried to speak, but nothing seemed to come out. So instead, as slowly as possible, she lowered herself to the ground and sat cross-legged in front of Papyrus. After a few moments of thought, she began again. “Papyrus… I never thought about how that must have looked, and I’m so, so sorry that you’re scared. But that _thing_ was not your friend if it could even _consider_ doing all of those awful things to you. I wasn’t there for everything, but I saw enough to cement the fact in my mind that it only cared about itself. If it was begging you to save it because you were its ‘friend’, then it was just trying to take advantage of you again.”

Papyrus hadn’t stopped crying; in fact, his tears seemed to drip out at an even faster rate, little muffled sobs escaping him. She wondered if she had been too brusque. Perhaps a different approach was required.

She changed her tone of voice to seem less aggressive, trying to reason with the huddled figure across from her. “Look, what if we had just let it go? It could have come back and done all those things again! What could we have done differently? How could we have protected you better? We missed our chance back when this all began, but now we’re going to be here for you no matter what. Nothing like this will ever happen again, I promise. And you know Sans would agree.”

Papyrus still wouldn’t look at her, but he wiped at his eyes, seemingly at a loss for words himself. “I… I don’t know. I just never w-wanted you to… to be bad, like he was.”

“Papyrus…”

The skeleton finally met her eyes, but looked away again just as quickly. She still saw the pain and guilt and fear in his eyes, and that hurt.

“I’m sorry. What Sans and I did, we did out of how much we care about _you_. We would never turn that on you.”

She offered her hand to Papyrus once more, and after a long moment, he took it. Undyne’s familiar shark-like grin spread across her face, her relief almost tangible. “C’mon, punk. Let’s clean up this mess.” She helped Papyrus shakily get to his feet, and together, the shift nearly imperceptible, they moved back into routine.

\---

Papyrus walked through Waterfall. The waters trickled, the echo flowers whispered, and his steps made loud creaking noises when he walked across the docks. Cooking with Undyne was one of the few excuses for him to actually come out there; it had been a decent length of time since their last meeting. As usual, it was a loud, spirited, and raucous affair.

The gentle, rolling murmur of cave life made a solid wall of white noise. It was a good place to go for some valuable quiet, and even better yet, to just observe passersby. Still, the whole thing gave of an intense air of solitude—it was rather late in the evening, as it was, so few monsters were around to be a bother—and as much as the skeleton seemed to glow with confidence, well… he knew that deep inside, there was a hard-to-place anxiety. But surely there was nothing to be frightened of in such a beautiful, tranquil place!

But overriding that was the loneliness, ever-present and unfailing. Undyne barely counted as a friend; she constantly doubted Papyrus’s worth as a soldier! As long as that certainty existed, she could never be what Papyrus needed. And he needed a confidant, a real friend to tell his secrets and aspirations and frustrations to.

Another constant was that Flowey always knew he was the perfect monster for the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading my fic! Special kudos to those who've been reading since the beginning, and congrats to anyone who marathons this. It's been a ride and a half.


End file.
